The TSAB Acturus War
by lord admiral belisarius
Summary: Five years after the Scaglietti incident, the Democratic Republic of Acturus attacked a TSAB administered world. They were defeated and the two powers declared war. Although horribly outnumbered, the soldiers of Acturus fight on. This is their story.
1. A Fire in the Sky

The TSAB – Acturus War

I'll say the same thing that I said when I posted it on TFF and Spacebattles. I decided to write a Nanoha fic in my prefered genre: military hard science fiction. I'm aiming for a good story. I mean, its fairly obvious who the victor will be, but its how they'll win. I'm going to portray the war from the loser's side. Some constructive criticism is more than welcome.

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Five years following the Scaglietti Incident, the TSAB was faced with another threat. This threat being the Democratic Republic of Acturus. This "Republic" was a minor non-administrated world until fifty-years ago when they discovered magic. They quickly built a fleet of spaceships and conquered three worlds over a twelve year period. That was when they first showed up on the TSAB's radar. In the past decade, they conquered another two worlds. That was their first strike; invasion is a rather large no-no. It was then discovered that they were using TSAB-illegal projectile weapons, another strike. Now, they had begun hostile actions against a TSAB administrated world, their third strike. It was time to take them out. After all, nations do not survive by being examples for others but my making examples of others.

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Lt. Col. Hayate Yagami looked over the pile of paperwork on her desk. It was late and she wanted to get some sleep. She rubbed her eyes. These Acturans were crazy and the TSAB wanted her to fight the crazies. They were simply crazy, resorting to lethal weaponry when they had magic, being run by an authoritarian one-party system and calling themselves "Democratic," and conquering others under the guise of liberation. Social critiques weren't really her job, though. It was their military that concerned her and the TSAB.

"Hayate, you should really go to bed now," came Reinforce Zwei's concerned voice.

"Yeah, I'll do that. I need a clear mind for this."

---------

The airbase was rather large. A good six concrete hangars stood on the tarmac. AA guns and missiles pointed skyward to ward off aerial intruders with extreme prejudice. A few dozen meters from the tarmac were a few rows of cheap prefab barracks. The squat concrete of the air traffic control building and the radar installation sat off to the right of the barracks. Behind the barracks were the mess hall, an open assembly area, a small field hospital, and a gun range.

Currently, the personnel were assembled in the commons. They were all wearing the khaki button down shirts and trousers of the utility uniforms. The tropical heat beat down on the sweating men and women. Clad in a more formal khaki service "Charlie" uniform adorned with a multitude of service ribbons, the base commander, Col. Beau Skorfenson walked out with a megaphone in hand.

"Atten-hut!"

Nearly five hundred boots shook the ground as one.

"Ladies and gentleman, it is my duty to inform you of the incoming war with the Time-Space Administration Bureau. You know your duty and you will do it. I understand that our enemy relies on mages. Let's show them their folly. Ladies and gentleman, go out and kick their asses. Dis-missed."

---------

The 63rd Task Fleet warped into the orbit. The fleet contained the battleships _Mid-Childa, Victoria, _and_ Steel Angel_; the heavy cruisers _Iron Savior _and _Broadsword_; the light cruisers _Sonata_ and _Icewind_; the destroyers _Deva, Ricardo, Clarice, Soaring Hawk, Zerstoren, _and _Braveheart_; the frigates _Ace of Spades, Falcon, Aether Voyager, Dragoon, Sorrow's River, Eight-Ball, Nomad, _and _Steel Rain_; and the transports _Stormrider, Fair Weather, Red Sun, _and _Prometheus_.

_Mid-Childa_ and _Victoria_ were both smooth, rounded wedges outfitted with two curving, hooked nacelles attached to the port and starboard sides. Two dorsal and two ventral turrets contained four Arc-en-Ciel cannons, the most powerful weapons available to the TSAB. Mounted on the pointed bow of the battleships were eight heavy mana torpedo launchers; each launched a large bolts of mana programmed to guide itself to its designated target. Only another mana based weapon could disrupt the torpedo, making it perfect against the ships of the Republican Space Force. Eighty blisters dotted the surface of each ship, eight on each nacelle and sixty-four scattered evenly across the central section. Every blister could fire heavy busters. The _Steel Angel_ was an entirely different beast of a battleship. Its hull was a long cone. It mounted nine Arc-en-Ciel cannons in casemates and another forty-two heavy buster blisters.

The _Iron Savior_ and _Broadsword_ were ships of the same class. They had smoothly curving double hulls. They each had twin Arc-en-Ciel cannons on a spinal mount on each hull portion. They also mounted a pair of double heavy buster turrets on each hull section. Sixteen blisters rounded out the weaponry. The _Sonata _and _Icewind_ were single hull designs. The hull itself was shaped like a flattened cone with a rounded tip. They mounted six mana torpedo launchers. They also mounted two single heavy buster casemates and twelve standard buster blisters.

The destroyers were conical, single hull designs with three engine nacelles. They mounted a dorsal and ventral single heavy buster turret. They each had four mana torpedo tubes and nine buster blisters. The frigates were of a similar design, albeit with smaller with two nacelles. They mounted a single frontal heavy buster ball turret, four mana torpedo tubes, and four buster blisters. The transports were large cylindrical vessels with rounded ends and six spherical engine pods on the rear.

The orbiting Republican Space Forces fleet was composed of forty warships of the 9th Fleet. These were the dreadnoughts _Blood Brother, Retribution, Death in Fire, Shade,King Acturan VIII, _and_ Halycon_; the cruisers _Razgriz, Inferno, Dante, Vergil, Eternal Silence, Rolling Thunder, Tyranny of Steel_,and _Deadly Sleep_; the destroyers _Warhammer, Sixpounder, Phalanx, Griffon, Dragon, Thunderchief, Wyvern, Phantom, Mirage, Typhoon, Tornado_, and _Za Warudo_; and the frigates _Lightning Strike, Master of Puppets, Fire in the Sky, Hands of Doom, Nemesis, Wicker Man, Angel, Deadly Sleep, Eye of the Tiger, Mustang, Hellcat, Heart on Fire, Crimson Thunder_, and _Fallen Angel_.

The battleships were big, blocky vessels. The Republican ships were almost a complete contrast to the smooth lines of the ships of the TSAB. They all were extremely similar in appearance having four angled plasma engines, two in the front and two in the rear, a cylindrical central section. The main differences were in size and armament. The battleships were four-hundred meters long each. They mounted two-hundred and forty missile tubes, one-hundred and twenty to a broadside, forty-eight lasers, and twenty-four dorsal and ventral double coilgun turrets. The cruisers were three-hundred meters long and mounted one-hundred and eighty missile tubes, ninety to a broadside, thirty-six lasers, and eighteen double coilgun turrets. The destroyers were two-hundred meters long and mounted one-hundred and twenty missile tubes, sixty to a broadside, twenty-four lasers, and twelve double coilgun turrets. The frigates mounted sixty missile tubes, thirty to a broadside, twelve lasers, and six double coilgun turrets.

"Admiral, twenty-one TSAB ships have into system. Sensor reading would indicate they have three dreadnoughts, four cruisers, six destroyers, eight frigates, and four other ships," called the young rating to the commander of the fleet, Admiral Charles D. Calhoon.

The old man, with white hair and dark skin, let go of the handrail as the thought for a moment. He floated around in the microgravity of the corridor.

"Alright. Follow me to the bridge, Ensign," stated the old man in a gravelly voice that spoke of quite a few years of smoking. He then deftly flipped himself up to begin walking on what was formerly the ceiling. The ensign followed him from the new "ceiling." The old man pulled a cigar from the inside of his uniform jacket and stuck it in his mouth. He did not light it, shipboard regulations prohibited that and a good leader must set the example. Within a scant few minute, he reach the bridge, a heavily armored compartment deep within the bowels of the ship.

The old man took a speaker and broadcast his order to the entire fleet, "Gentleman, prepare to perform a wall of battle. Space it out gentlemen, we know how powerful some of their weapons are. I want sixty kilometers between each ship at all times. Four columns in the wall, gentleman. Alpha Column will consist of the dreadnoughts, Bravo Column will consist of the cruisers, Charlie Column will consist of the destroyers, and Delta Column will consist of the frigates. Is this understood, gentleman?"

From across the BattleNet, he received a chorus of "Aye, sir!" from the captains of the ships.

It took half an hour of maneuvering to get into formation. By this time, the TSAB task force was flying in to get into the effective range of their weapons. Their bearing allowed put them right in the "T" of the guns of the 8th Fleet.

"Fire a full broadside. This is a golden opportunity. What sort of incompetent puts his forces in such a close formation. It was then that a volley of fire soundlessly erupted from the wall of battle. Nearly twenty-five hundred missiles were ejected from the ships. Powerful rockets ignited, sending the missiles out to the TSAB ships. It was a tranquil fury. Electricity crackled as nearly one thousand coilguns discharged nine-hundred and ninety-six twenty kilo semi-guided slugs at fifteen-thousand meters per second. Almost five-hundred lasers flashed, sending out coherent beams.

The lasers impacted first, moving at the speed of light. Magical shields sprung into existence to stop the attacks, but there was still some bleed off of thermal energy. Sections of hull boiled and caved in, venting some atmosphere into the void of space. Deep within the bowels of the _Victoria_ Rear Admiral Nimitz examined the battles from the holographic display. He too was an old man. He was pale from many years inside a spaceship and had a short, neatly trimmed beard.

He ordered, "Return fire with torpedoes and busters. Charge all Arc-en-Ciel cannons. I want twenty-one kills when they fire. Spread out the ships, but protect the transports at all costs. All the innocents under Acturan occupation depend on us. Fire!"

Seven dozen bright blue bolts of mana leaped from the TSAB ships and began charging toward the Republican ships. The bolts of blue fire paled in comparison to the thousands of missiles launched. Machine and magic intertwined for a moment as the torpedoes wove through the missiles.

"Sir! The scans detect the torpedoes are nukes!"

"Fire busters at them. Send out the mages to intercept and destroy them before they hit. All ships, hold present course and reinforce bow shields. We'll win if we can break into their wall of battle. There, our individual superiority will crush the. Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead!"

Having had no experience with physical weapons like the missiles for many years, they had underestimated a key feature of the missiles: penetration aids. Each missile did not carry a single warhead, but rather five. Furthermore, each warhead had a cooled sheath of a magic and radar absorbing material which made detecting the individual warheads difficult. Intermixed with the warheads were another ten irradiated and heated decoys. Upon reaching a certain distance from their targets, a bursting charge fragmented the shell, providing instant chaff and dispersing the warheads and decoys.

2nd Lieutenant Mari Shikinami lead her flight of mages out to intercept the missiles. They flew in the diagonal line of an echelon formation. Around them, hundreds of other mages flew out into the black voice, protected only by their barrier jackets.

"Ready your most powerful attacks. These are nuclear weapons. Our ships can take them, but not in this volume. Go! Go! Go!"

The buster cannons volleyed, sending out lances of light and magic. It would still take them nearly a minute to hit the missiles. After another few minutes of cooling down, another volley lanced ahead. The mages were the last line of defense. There were still approximately thirty precious minutes until the missiles would impact. There was silence. Unlike atmospheric mage combat, there was no rush of wind, no sound of busters and shooters going off. In space, no one could hear you scream. It was then that the coilgun slugs impacted.

Three-quarters of the way to maximum weapons range, a coilgun slug slammed into her leg. It punched through her barrier jacket, forcefully deactivating it. Cut off from her magic, she experienced the effects of hard vacuum. At first, she took an instinctive gasp for nonexistant air, but then plugged her mouth and nose. She would die out there and knew it. Her barrier jacket was nonexistant. She was losing blood and was far away from any rescue. Her body could float around for all eternity. Droplets of blood crystallized as they floated away from her body. The sun came around, and her skin began to blister and bubble from the ultraviolet radiation. Her vision turned grey and blurry as less and less oxygen pumped to her brain. She puked from the dizzying effect of being spun around. Her eyes stung as the water in them was frozen over. The water on her tongue boiled. She tried to scream, but no there was nothing to conduct the sound waves. Seconds after this, her vision began to tunnel. She fought to stay conscious, in pain the entire time. Oblivion had never felt like such a good option before this. Her vision faded to black. Mari Shikinami died in agony after one-minute and forty five seconds of exposure to hard vacuum. She was conscious for but forty seconds.

The slugs impacted. A hundred slugs would not trouble the task force, but there were nearly five-hundred slugs aiming for them. One-hundred and ninety-eight slugs missed the ships. Three-hundred and twenty were deflected or halted by shields. The rest broke through. The slugs slammed into the ships. Much like a rifle bullet, the slugs penetrated the ships and began to tumble through. Atmosphere was vented out along with bodies and scrap metal. The _Icewind _ was catastrophically destroyed, holed lengthwise by a good two dozen hits. A lucky hit destroyed the _Deva_'s reactor. The ship drifted along its course, utterly powerless. The frigate _Steel Rain _was pushed on a backwards course by the railgun hits. The _Braveheart _and _Zerstoren_ were also destroyed, perforated by coilgun hits. All of the other warships were damaged to a greater or lesser extent. The small ships suffered the most, lacking the size to take multiple hits of that caliber. The _Iron Savior_ lost a heavy turret. The _Mid-Childa _lost eighteen blisters, one turret and a few decks. Most of the slugs were aimed at the large ships. The _Victoria _had sections A1-A13, D3-D11, and F1-F19 destroyed. The _Steel Angel_ lost two of its Arc-en-Ciel cannons and had a good deal of surface damage.

Missiles were exploding left and right as the buster shots slammed into them. Hundreds of missiles fell, but there were thousands more. As the mages approached, the bursting charges activated and thousands of warheads, decoys, and bits of chaff filled the space. Collectively eyes widened.

"Oh shit!"

"They've got multiple nukes in each one! Holy crap!"

"Is that a cloud of shrapnel?"

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Get a hold of yourself! We've got a job to do."

A wall of shielding spells was presented as they rushed into the shrapnel cloud of chaff. Sadly, the protection did not save all of them, and they suffered the same fate as they're barrier jackets forcefully shut down. They screamed before the barrier jackets shut down. Then there was but silence from them as they found themselves sucking vacuum.

"All mages, sensors indicate that twenty-seven thousand six-hundred and ninety warheads. Take them out. We'll assist with guns, but we're going to need a few minute to reprogram them to make them ignore friendlies," came the message from the _Victoria_.

Within minutes, hundreds of decoys were destroyed. It was then that they began to see the real warheads, dark and cool against the background of space. It took longer but a few hundred of the real warheads were destroyed.

"Withdraw all mages. Ready Arc-en-Ciel cannons."

The mages turned to flee, putting as much space between them and the warheads. There were minutes of silence as the mages evacuated the area. The blindingly bright beams of the cannons blasted out; most of the warheads were destroyed, but fifty-eight managed to get through. This when the warheads activated and the TSAB experience the power of nuclear shaped charges. Each warhead was a standard nuclear warhead but with a twist; a momentary magic field concentrated the full power of a nuclear blast into a few dozen square centimeters. A half dozen small craft exploded, some craft destroyed by the same blast.

"Sir, we've lost the _Eigthball, Aether Voyager, Ricardo, Iron Savior, Ace of Spades, _and _Clarice_!" shouted one of the bridge staff on the _Victoria_.

"Save your tears for after our victory, we're about to slam into their wall of battle. Ladies and gentleman, you've fought hard and I'm proud to be your commander. This is the final push. Win," stated the Rear Admiral with a proud grin.

It was as promised, the sleek ships of the TSAB fleet vectored into the path of the Republican wall of battle. They were slammed with volley after volley of railguns. However, at close range, the fearsome power of the volley of hundreds of slugs was mitigated. Instead, the ships had to deal with mere dozens of slugs, something the shields could easily deal with. Dozens of mages flew over the ships. Some exploded into a pink mist when the lasers, now in point defense mode hit them. Unless you were many millions of kilometers away, there was no dodging a laser. The mages flew close to the ships and exploited chinks in armor and turret speed for massive damage. From airlocks, squads of marines in armored spacesuits marched. Magic seeking missiles flew from man portable launchers as a last ditch defense. It was moderately effective along with the spraying of assault rifle fire according to the targeting computers in their helmet HUD. It was marginally effective, and more than a few overconfident mages drifted off into space perforated by rifle rounds or shrapnel from missiles. With great tenacity, the black suited marines stood their ground on the hulls of the ships. By far they were the squishiest things in the battle. Busters vaporized them. Still, they fought on. A group of mages dived to skim the surface of the _Thunderchief. _A group of marines unhitched their tether lines for better mobility, relying purely on skill and knowing full well that they could drift off into space never to be found again. They knelt down and began laying down suppressive fire as a missile team set up. A Belkan style mage ran across the hull to smash his weapon, a large axe into the marines. Rounds flew through the void, missing or being harmlessly diverted by the barrier jacket. The missile team managed to fire before getting cut down. They were sent flying, spewing blood and guts from their suits. The self sealing suits began to close up the wound and hold it in, giving them a chance of survival. They were being administered painkillers from their suits. The gunner managed to grab hold of a piece of a laser turret mount. The loaders was nowhere near as lucky and began to float off into space. His last action was to grab the mage in a bear hug as he flew off. The marine then detonated his oxygen supply. The remains flew off. There was no more mage and no more marine, merely chunks of flesh.

Bit by bit, the Republican ships were being pounded into submission, sometimes being cracked in two. This was where the durability of the Republican ships began to show. Each ship was compartmentalized with many supplementary generators. Only a few compartments would be lost. The _Halycon_ was cracked in twain. The two ends began to fly off. The parts fire maneuvering thrusters to bring them into a stable position and began to hammer away with their still functional weapons. This was the marvel of Acturan spaceship engineering. Their ships could take a massive hole right through them and go "Is that all?" Then they would return fire. The Acturan ships, although not as powerful as the TSAB counterparts, had an unmatched durability and tenacity, much like their designers. Even this was not enough as they were battered into submission. Eventually, only the _King Acturan, Death in Fire, Razgriz, Za Warudo, _and _Crimson Thunder_ were left. They stopped firing, halted their motion, and extended their radiators, a sign of surrender similar to a dog baring its neck. Now there were no orbital forces to contest the invasion. A message was sent and more TSAB ships began to arrive. For the defenders on the ground, there was no escape.


	2. To Hammer at the Gates

Chapter Two

To Hammer at the Gates

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The jungle was as calm as it ever was. Sunlight streamed through leaves. The cries of monkeys and birds and the omnipresent buzz of insects could be heard. The floor was dark except for a small clear area that golden sun illuminated. The ground itself opened up like the maw of a great beast. A rumbling was heard and felt for miles around. Animals fled the source of this godlike rumbling. A silver blur shot out. A shockwave of its passage knocked down the surrounding trees. It rode on a tidal wave of energy and sound. Across a the hemisphere of the planet, surface to orbit coilgun silos launched their payloads. Each coilgun slug weighed a ton and multiple nuclear reactors powered each coilgun to send out the slugs at twenty times the speed of sound. In addition to the coilgun boost, each slug mounted a scramjet to boost their already ludicrous speed to Mach 25. Hundreds of these massive slugs were being launched at the invading fleet. Although this was approximately two thirds as fast as the speed of the naval coilguns, the mass of the projectiles more than made up the difference.

Ships began to jink as best they could against the slugs. They would have been pitifully easy to dodge at longer ranges, but targets in low orbit had mere seconds to shift their massive bulk away from the slugs. The guidance package allowed a measure of control over their trajectory and limited-use artificial intelligences, LAI's, adjusted the courses by the minute amounts to increase the chance of a hit from an average rate 5% to an average rate of 45%. There was a hypersonic crack as each slug rammed through the atmosphere. Ships exploded and the fleet retreated to a distance far away from the surface to orbit coilguns. At distances greater than six hundred kilometers, the accuracy dropped from the up to 60% at close range to 3% at that distance. The TSAB fleet responded by methodically picking off each and every satellite in orbit over the planet. With no satellites to spot for them, the hypersonic boom of the coilguns ceased.

Rear Admiral Nimitz walked beside the taller yet diminished figure of Admiral Calhoon. The dark skinned man had his arms behind is back in magically reinforced handcuffs. The Acturan admiral had been allowed to keep his uniform and a small measure of dignity. The Mid-Childan Admiral sipped at his tea next to his defeated enemy. The Acturan Admiral smiled in satisfaction as he saw the wrecked ships as the TSAB fleet withdrew from low orbit. For his part in the Bombardment of Theochas, the Acturan Admiral was to be put on trial for war crimes as soon as a ship was available to bring him to Mid-Childa.

"So Admiral, how does it feel to realize that you will be crushed completely and utterly. You have but thirty-billion and we have two-point two-five trillion. The disparity is so great that your nation should accept defeat and sue for peace. Perhaps you'll only get by with becoming a province of the TSAB. If you continue to fight, chances are you're government will be deposed and your planets under martial law. What do you say to that?"

The Acturan gazed coldly at the Mid-Childan and replied, "Whatever you do, the people of the Democratic Republic of Acturus will resist you. We will stand as Acturans always have, unbroken and unbowed."

"If that is the case, why did you surrender to our forces rather than fight to the last man?"

"Reason comes before honor. I'm not willing to foolishly sacrifice my men's lives. With this, we may live to fight another day. I love my country and would sacrifice my life for it -I am a soldier unlike your glorified police force- but as you should know, mission accomplishment comes before troop welfare. My mission could no longer be accomplished, thus I decided to act for the welfare of the men under my command."

"Would you kindly divulge some information about your defenses, Admiral?"

"There is far more than that awaiting you. God have mercy on your soul, for we shall not."

"Very informative, Admiral. Gentleman, please escort this man back to the brig."

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The command center buried deep in the depths a mountain was abuzz with activity. They had lost half of their satellites. Not just military satellites, but weather, GPS, and communications satellites. The total blackout was going to make things more than a little dificult. It was a good thing that the boomers' missiles didn't rely on satellite feeds, but it would make cruise missiles nearly useless unless designator beacons could be planted. Laser guided bombs were still useful. Land lines could still be used. Situations like this were why the Acturan military disdained over reliance on net-centric warfare: it was too vulnerable to shit like this. This is why every unit was equipped with standard radios. Wireless networks were all EMP shielded and never relied totally on either fixed lines or satellites. This was why soldiers were still taught to navigate without GPS. It ensured an extra layer of redundancy that would allow them to fight without their fancy toys.

"God damn it, Michael! How long will it take to switch targeting to ground based radar systems?" shouted the commander of the bunker, a balding man in his mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair, piercing blue eyes, and a slight paunch.

"Sir, reworking the targeting systems will take nearly an hour to change the software, even with LAI assistance. I'm working as fast as I can, Sir," stated the young man working the console.

"It's okay, boy. I kind of blew up. Still, we've got a fucking invasion fleet out there. I need it ASAP. I understand; I was once a rear-echelon motherfucker too. Carry on," said the general, rather deflated and tired.

"Yes sir!"

"That's the spirit."

The general took a gulp of his coffee. He walked out of the brightly room. It was almost surgically clean with polished black and white tile floors, whitewashed walls, and fluorescent lighting. To be perfectly honest, the general found it too clinical and would have preferred a greater variety of colors. A little less white would have been nice.

He walked to the office and set up the experimental magic communications device. He pushed a button and the screen displayed a loading message. A line of opened up to the President, audio only.

"Sir, General Oscar Parker here. The fleet defending our world has been destroyed by invading TSAB forces. I think we'll be able to hold them off for at least six months. Mr. President, I can't make any promises beyond that."

"Understood general. You're going to hold out for us to muster the entire fleet along with arming merchant ships. In order to break that blockade, we're going to need every single jump capable ship armed and ready. That could take up to a year to ready. There is also the chance that there are more ships than we can handle. We could send out five-hundred ships and only half would be warships. This would leave every other planet undefended. Crush them on the ground, in the air, and on the seas. That is an order, General."

General Parker bit back a curse and replied, "Yes sir. I'll do what I can."

From his desk, Parker pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit up. It had been a while since he'd smoked. The last time he remembered was nearly thirty years ago as a self described "reach echelon motherfucker." He'd been working under his mentor, General Ripper in a command tent...

"_Oscar, this is war. The smell of napalm in the morning, the screams of dying, the sound of gunfire, smoke, the lament of women and children, a bombed out landscape. People have said that I'm merciless. I've been called 'Jack the Ripper.' No, I don't love war, but worse men could and in cases do fight wars. If you want someone who loves war, you'd want to talk to The Major and his armored battalion. However, I fight to win. If a million men must die to crack open a stronghold then they will die. I don't waste lives; I buy victory with them. My men always know that I'm not the man to waste their lives, and so they fight hard with great ferocity and valor. What's the primary objective of leadership, Lieutenant?"_

"_Sir, the primary objective of leadership is mission accomplishment," answered a much younger Parker._

"_Good Oscar. However, you must apply this. That is why it is so difficult to be truly good leader. You must pay the cost of war with the lives of your men. If you can make sound decisions and do this, then you are a good leader. If you are willing to live with your men and experience their hardships, they will adore you. They are your soldiers and there are many like them. These are yours. You must master them as you master your life. Without leadership, your troops are useless and without troops a leader is likewise useless. Do you understand the essence of leadership, Oscar."_

"_I think I do, sir."_

"_Please, Jack will do, son. Come walk with me. The offensive will start soon. We will attack with the sun to our backs."_

"_Yes sir-I mean Jack-"_

"-Sir, the coilguns are ready to fire again. Shall I give the order?"

"Absolutely, we'll show them that for all their fancy toys, they're just glorified police. Let's show them what a real military can do."

"YES SIR!" replied the technician.

---------

"Ladies and gentleman, do you have any suggestions to defeat their surface to orbit emplacements?"

A single hand was immediately raised, the hand of Lieutenant Colonel Hayate Yagami.

"Admiral Nimitz, I'd be more than capable of destroying the sites."

"Wonderful, Colonel, but I'd rather not risk a mage of your ability. Overruled. Plus, there are hundreds of these sites."

"Nimitz, what about using EMP weapons?" asked a captain in the back of the room.

"Given that they are competent I'm going to assume that all their electronics are hardened."

"What about sending out multiple waves of landing craft to establish a base?" inquired another.

"I think this means we're going to need to use orbital bombardment," stated Hayate.

The admiral grimly answered, "That's what I was hoping to avoid."

Over hours, the locations of sites were triangulated. Ships would be destroyed and good men and women would die, but this was war. Hundreds of the sleek hulled ships powered up their engines to slowly move into orbital bombardment range. coilgun rounds once more shot out. Provided the slugs could slam through shields, they could kill just about any ship. Small groups of ships merged shields to deflect the coilgun slugs. It worked. Hundreds of ships came into geosynchronous orbit over their designated targets. Thousands of busters charged. coilguns were still impacting the ships. Ships still died, but the element of suprise that had made the first strike so deadly was missing. A rain of light descended upon the planet. The magical bombardment had an almost angelic quality to it as beams spread out across the planetary surface. Its beauty was only matched by its destructive power. Every beam gouged massive craters into the protective plates. Direct hits buckled the plates inward. Once more, the guns fell silent. The formerly dark sky was bright with the white hot streaks of atmospheric reentry lit the sky.

Airman Kyle Lloyd awakened by an air raid siren at 0200. He immediately sprung up from his bed and grabbed his grey rubbery material of his flight suit. He pulled the jump suit over his body. He the put on the tactical harness containing his survival gear and handgun. Next came the small flotation device. Finally, he grabbed his helmet and ran across the field to the fighter hangars. When he got to the hangar, the ground crew was already fueling the plane and loading up. The internal weapons bays were being loaded entirely with AAMGM-35 "Mortal" short range missiles. The two internal bays had five hardpoints rated up to 200 kilos of ordnance. An F-23 Lancer could have twenty Mortals. Kyle received some coffee and a few hot rolls from one of the guys in the ground crew. They were awesome guys who always took care of the planes. He walked up to his Lancer, _The Killing Joke_. His plane had a massive smile painted on the nose. A black and white drawing of a psychotic clown with a machine gun could be found on right side of cockpit. Two tallies of kill marks were on the left side. The art showed up nicely on the anti-flash white of the planes.

The F-23 Lancer was a beautiful plane. It was powered by a single afterburning, thrust vectored valveless pulsejet. It had sleek delta wings with a long nosecone. The bubble canopy blended into the fuselage while still providing excellent visibility. Rather than double rudderlons that some planes had, the Lancer had a large single rudder and canards. Two cannon barrels could be seen on the nose. Technicians were feeding belts of 20mm ammo into the ammo bins of the guns. Kyle finished off the coffee and rolls and snapped on the helmet. The flight leader, Kenny "Raven" Rabensteimer came up to Kyle and patted him on the back.

"Yo Smiley, you ready?"

"Fuck yeah, I am."

The two men went to their respective planes. Kile put on the helmet which sealed with a reassuring hiss. He went through the controls. Everything was a go. A hose was connected to the top of the cockpit and and a clear fluid was pumped into the cockpit. From the cockpit, he gave a thumbs up to the ground crew, who waved back while putting on hearing protection. The four planes taxied out to the runway. One by one, they took off. This was repeated across hundreds of airbases and dozens of aircraft carriers. There were all sorts of planes in the air from the small F-23 Lancers to the lumbering E-3 Prowler AWACS plane. It was the battle that the Acturan brass had fretted over for years, their aircraft against TSAB aerial mages.

The air was thick with contrails as planes climbed to meet the largest orbit to surface landing force in history. The radio was abuzz with chatter. It suddenly ceased as a single voice cut through, the voice of General Oscar Parker.

"Ladies and gentleman, I will not lie. You are flying into the very gates of hell. Remember this, we are fighting for the continued existence of our nation. That glorified police force will regret the day they decided to fight the might of the Acturan military. If nothing else, fight for the fatherland. We are going to make history today. Ladies and gentleman, we are going to destroy them. General Parker, out."


	3. Like Unholy Birds of War We Fly

Chapter 3

Like Unholy Birds of War, We Fly

* * *

A hundred kilometers above the intercepting Acturan fighters, the TSAB dropships launched mages to hit the attacking force. This too had been fretted over by the TSAB brass, but they were confident in the ability of their mages alongside their small target profile to carry them through the fight. The powerful engines of the planes allowed them to climb vertically at the speed of sound itself. The massive F-21 Dragon heavy fighters opened up their weapons bays to let loose a salvo of the long range AAMGM-21 Tomcat missiles. The five meter long missiles dropped backward before the engines kicked in. The missiles flew upward, and the two seater, variable geometry planes leveled off to defend their zone. They still had the F-22 Dragonfly naval fighters. The naval planes fired their AAMGM-32 Griffon medium range missiles from weapons bays before they too leveled off to defend the second zone of defence. The F-23s continued onward. They opened up their missile bays to fire a volley of AAMGM-35 Mortal missiles. Against this wall of missile fire, the TSAB aerial forces were not idle. Their guns blazed, sending out bolts of magic against both missiles and planes. Shooters were hurled from devices to seek out their targets. These were only partially effective against the missile swarm. Missiles were clawed from the skies with ferocity, exploding into grey smoke and shredded metal.

Gee forces slammed Kyle "Smiley" Alexander into his seat. He felt called to fight the mages for dominance of the skies, a battle of knights of the air. However his mission was to take down the lumbering dropships. Hundreds of warheads detonated through the air, sending up shrapnel. Sixteen of three hundred landing craft went down in flames, damaged beyond repair by the supersonic shrapnel of missile warheads. The tiny figures of people jumped from the dying behemoths of dropships. Parachutes opened, saving them if they had oxygen masks on.

He flew alongside his squadronmates Raven, Joker, and Doombitch. The dropships appeared as ominous blobs in the distance with tiny dots of mages surrounding them like flies around a piece of fruit. A green triangle was superimposed on the blob of a dropship. It quickly turned red and two pairs of Mortals flew from weapons bays. Six other pairs of Mortals were also launched from the Raven's, Joker's, and Doombitch's Lancers. The missiles hit the dropship. Panels of armor were broken and some smoke leaked from the dropship, but it still tanked eight missiles that would have shredded nearly anything else. The lances of shooter magics flew out.

"Break!" yelled Raven.

The planes flew off. Tongues of white hot flames flew from the engines as the afterburners were activated in the standard fashion of missile evasion for aircraft as fast as Lancers: go faster. The ability to accelerate to low hypersonic speeds and post-stall maneuverability made this a wonderfully useful for the virtually unarmored Lancer.

Smiley was slammed harder into the seat. Without the suit and fluid, he'd be unconscious by now. His hands deftly worked the two joysticks and a pair of pedals to weave around and dodge the trailing shooters. The nozzle of the engine whirled around, sending the plane in unexpected directions. The seeking bolts of magic swerved around to follow him. Using the rudder and thrust vectoring, he spun the airplane around lengthwise. It was a miracle of Acturan engineering that the plane could survive these stresses. If flew sideways spinning around. A burst of afterburners and the plane raced away; the seeking bolts flew off into the distance to explode harmlessly, unable to track the maneuvers of his aircraft.

"Bitches don't know about my thrust vectoring," commented Smiley.

"Shut up, Smiley," returned Doombitch, "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Lock it the fuck up, guys!" yelled Raven, "I want everyone to fire two volleys of missiles at the dropship."

"That will deplete our missile reserves down to fifty percent, Raven," warned Joker.

"Deal with it. We need to take down those fucking dropships. If this doesn't kill it, go in for guns."

"Yes sir," answered the other members of the squadron.

Weapons bays again opened and sixteen missiles lanced outward, curving their trajectories to hit the dropship. More smoke and flames belched from the airborn leviathan. Pieces broke off and it tilted away, out of control. More tiny ants of escaping people jumped from this leviathan.

"Mages incoming at ten o' clock, eleven kilometers away. Raven Squadron, Wraith Squadron, Mobius Squadron, engage," came the voice of control.

"Fire half volley, ladies and gents. Mortal out," ordered Raven.

"Firing. Mortal away," answered Doombitch.

"Mortal off," answered Smiley.

"Mortal launched," stated Joker flatly.

Mobius Squadron ripple fired pairs of missiles. Wraith squadron also fired single missiles. Sixteen missiles flew off. Four dozen homing lances of blue light came from the aerial mages. The triangular reticule turned white as his missile exploded.

"One kill for me. Looks like we dropped six of them- Oh shit! Evading!"

The planes broke off. They rolled, dived, and made tight turns to shake off the pursuing shooters. Still more shooters were launched.

"Turn around and engage the mages. We can outrun the attacks. After me," said Raven.

He drifted the Lancer, pulled a turn and hit the afterburner. Joker and Smiley did likewise to evade and outrun the magical ordnance. Doombitch was a little slow and four shooters slammed into her Lancer. It trailed smoke and fire as its rear end was savaged with explosions. Before, the plane went completely out of control, she pointed the nose up and fire off the rest of her missiles. Nine Mortals flew from weapons bays as the canopy blew off and the seat was shoved out of the plane. A parachute opened up and she was left drifting tens of thousands of meters in the air. Since Mortals were fire and forget, they homed in on their targets. Blasts of tungsten balls shredded flesh and bone. Four mages fell from the sky. She was not alone in being shot down. Four other planes were blown from the skies. One was shredded into fragments as the shooter slammed into the midsection of the craft, hitting the weapons bays and the fuel tanks. Another was hit head on in the cockpit. The other two managed to eject.

Smiley, Joker, and Raven watched their squadronmates go down in only for moment. They then launched a sextuplet of missiles. They twisted their way to their targets. Rapid fire bolts of magic were hurled at the missiles, three exploded under this hail of fire. Three warheads exploded into cones of rapidly expanding tungsten shot. One mage was brought down and two appeared to dodge the cones. The planes broke off into turns, bleeding of speed for dogfighting maneuverability.

Smiley came onto the six of a mage, near the edge of stall speed so as not to overshoot the target. The helmet sight projected a path for the bullets along an arcing line. He pressed the firing stud and unleashed hell from barrels of twin nose autocannons. Each 20mm autocannon was operated by a short recoil action and could pump out 1800 rounds per minute. When firing in concert, they pumped out a continuous stream of 3600 rounds per minute. With magic, the barrel and action were repaired in between shots to a eliminate any form of wear and keep accuracy to a perfect match grade. A stream of twenty rounds flew through the air in one third of a second. The mage jinked and altered his speed. His efforts weren't without some success and a few of the bullets flew off. Other were deflected by the barrier jacket. However, a few got through and 20mm HEDP rounds met a person with predictable results. Human flesh and bone were popped like a balloon into bloody shreds.

"Yeehaw! Gun kill! That'll be two kills for me today. Two more to go to be an ace," whooped Smiley.

A warning klaxon sounded as shooters flew after him. Again, he drifted the Lancer and sped off from the seeking magic attacks. He then pulled up the rear of the plane, using thrust vectoring to keep it level. The shooters were catching up. He pulled hard on both joysticks and the airplane pulled a complete three-hundred and sixty degree turn. He angled downward slightly and hit the afterburner. The shooters could not turn quickly enough and flew off futilely into the distance. He got a lock on the offending mage, and screamed over the mage. The bay doors opened and a missile flew out to hit the surprised mage. Off boresight targeting weapons were a bitch like that if you weren't familiar with them. It was for this very reason that they were a problem for the mages who needed to see the target and the shooter to guide the attack. This was why optically tracked guided missiles, ATGMs in particular had switched to fire and forget as enemies were wont to spray fire at the operator guiding the missile.

While he had gotten two kills, the other mages had been taken care of with only the loss of one Wraith. They had lost six pilots, three still recoverable. It was a costly fight, but someone had to stop the invasion. The planes split off to joint the growing furball. Joker unusually vocalized something outside of what was required of him.

"Those bastards shot down Doombitch. I'm going to take great joy in killing them. Personally, I hope we can bring the war to them. They are soft and unused to war. It will do them good to experience the hell of war that Acturus has since its founding. Perhaps bring them down a few pegs."

"I'm with you, Joker. Let's fuck up their shit so we can go back home. This is Acturan ground and they can't take it without a fight," said Raven.

"Me too. Let's fucking kill them," added Smiley.

A hail of explosions pounded around them as they flew together in a modified finger four of but three fingers, the missing man formation. They banked and turned through the chaos and smoke, the thunder of guns and the crackling of magic, the screeches of tortured metal and screams of dying. By this time, landing force had penetrated the first layer of defenses, the Lancers, and had begun dogfighting the Dragonflies. The twin engined naval craft had not the maneuverability or speed of the Lancers, but they had durability, more weapons, and fresher pilots. The Lancers still flew and fought though they had lost many. Raven Squadron launched a salvo of missiles at an incoming dropship. With their altitude advantage, the missiles slammed into the weaker top armor. Some were shot down by defences but enough made it through to kill the transport. It toppled over and began to tumble down. Chances were the crew was being crushed into a fine red paste at that speed. It was a fitting fate for those who had brought down their friend and comrade.

"Smiley here, down to 30% missile ammo."

"Joker here, down to 30% missile storage."

"Same here guys; I've got six missiles left. Let's take down more dropships. Then we go in for guns. Easy, right?"

"Nothing is ever as easy as it sounds Raven. Ever."

"Thought you'd be optimistic, Smiley."

"Oh, I'm smiling all right, but guns kills are far more difficult."

"Quit bitching, countermeasures used to be so bad that the only aircraft weapon worth a damn were guns. That was a bit before my time, but it's why we still carry guns. Learn to use and love them."

"Bandits on our tail, six of them. I repeat, six bandits on our tail," intoned Joker.

Smiley pulled at both sticks to drift his plane around. A burst of power brought the plane around. He could imagine the faces of the mages as he pulled such an outrageous maneuver. The helmet sight calculated his trajectory had he placed the pipper right onto that point. Smiley thumbed the stud and grinned a savage grin as he pumped round after round of ammunition into the flightpath of the mage. An explosion of blood and bone and gore. He smiled. The ammo counter showed that he still had four hundred rounds left. One more kill left to becoming one of the aces, to be like Raven. Joker had sniped them from a longer range with his guns. Smiley still wondered how the man could get that kind of accuracy from an airplane and it made him glad that Joker wasn't on the other side. He knew he'd probably shit a brick if that were to happen. Raven ripped through them while doing what was regarded as the impossible: outflying mages. Cannons blazed in his ballet of death. They were ripped to ribbons by the explosive shells. These mages were definitely inexperienced which was why they had gotten jumped and killed within seconds by their more experienced Acturan counterparts.

There was a massive flash of blinding pink light. It scythed across the sky. Dozens of planes were destroyed in an instant. The order came to retreat to curb their losses. Still more planes were destroyed as they tried to flee. Tears came to Smiley's eyes. Doombitch was to be captured by enemy forces. He hoped that she would survive what the barbaric TSAB would to to gain information. Physically breaking a POW was one thing, but mind rape was on an entirely different level. Out of seven thousand intercepting planes, only six thousand returned. It was now the army's turn to try and halt the advance.


	4. Now Let Me Show You Battle

Chapter Four

Now Let me Show You Battle

The thunder of guns and the screams of missiles split the air. The steady pounding of the 45mm cannons could be heard along with the chatter of the of the 20mm cannons. The old role of heavy AA guns had been superseded by SAMs. The air force had failed to halt the invasion, as was to be expected for them. The army forces gathered had thousands of armored vehicles and tens of thousands of infantry to halt the TSAB forces. The pre-dawn sky was bright with tracers and missile exhaust. A hundred plus dropships of the enemy were coming. Many had been destroyed, but there appeared to be two hundred dropships left. If the intelligence reports were correct, each could seat upwards of two hundred people. At a conservative measure, that meant about fifty thousand, but a more practical estimate was closer to fifty-six thousand. As the ships drew closer, man portable SAMs were launched. For all they did, the might have been shooting spitballs at the enemy.

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Lt. Col. "Major" Max watched from the hatch of the tank. He was an old man in his sixties. He had light blonde hair in a state of male pattern baldness. He could have been promoted beyond his position to a general, but he liked fighting on the front with his armored batallion. He had sixty tanks at his disposal, three thousand tonnes of armor and guns. The T-70A3 was one of the finest pieces of armor if not the finest according his opinion. Each fifty tonne tank a 127mm electrothermal-chemical combustion light fluid gun alongside a MG-11 coaxial machine guns on a sleek, long, low, angular turret. Tubes of active ordnance defenses formed a ring around the turret along with a few single tubes for smoke grenades. Several electro-optical jammers were also mounted along the turret. A small radar array was mounted on the rear of the of the turret. The menacing metal of a pintle mounted MG-11 protruded from above the turret. The hull was v-shaped with thick sloped armor all around. He buttoned up inside the tank. He wanted to break them with the charge of armored cavalry, but he needed approval to do such a thing. Tank shock was such a wonderful thing.

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Private Marona was knocked around a bit as the dropship hit the dirt. This was a strange battle. Old hovertanks were being deployed against top of the line tracked tanks. However, she was just a boot on the ground with her magical rifle and armor. It was a damn shame that they were going to have to kill the Acturans all because their leadership lacked the sense to back down against the TSAB. She heard and felt the door open. She unclipped herself from the harness and ran out to the darkened rolling hills and plains. Magic turned night to a bright day. She was able to clearly see the ring of Acturan forces. Streaks lit the sky as MLRS rained down their own visible death from above. The CIWS was not a Close-In-Weaksauce-System for once and shot down the slow moving rockets. It again fired against less visible targets. She spotted a hovering APC with members of her squad and ran over to them. Around them, other mechanized infantry were mounting up. Tanks were rolling out to engage the enemies. The ground exploded around them as hundreds of howitzer shells and mortar shells exploded in the area. High explosives sent out hundreds of pieces of shrapnel; concussion collapsed lungs. Men were torn asunder. The lucky died quickly. The unlucky would die perhaps trying to hold in their intestines or trying to breathe in spite of a collapsed ribcage. The screams were horrible. For many, this was their first experience of war. The smell of blood and voided bowels was terrible. This was modern warfare: organized slaughter.

She didn't know how, dazed from the bombardments as she was, but they managed to get moving, a mix of APCs and MBTs leading the advance with footslogging infantry following them. They were to break through the lines of troops. Artillery still pounded on the advance, though without much accuracy. They returned fire with guided shooters, direct fire busters, and rapid fire mana bolts. They too received retribution in the form of guided missiles and a volley of 127mm Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot rounds from the tanks. Each missile carried an 8.5 kilo tandem shaped charge warhead toward their targets. The magical shields glowed brightly as they slowed the 30mm diameter kinetic energy penetrators. The hovertanks' shields were able to cause the kinetic energy rounds to shatter on impact; however, they brought down the shields and left the tanks open to retaliation. APCs had no such luck and their shields flared before being holed lengthwise by tungsten carbide darts. The rounds would smash through the thickest frontal armor of the APC, leave the crew and passengers a bloody mess, and destroy any important equipment like engines. It was a catastrophic kill. Against the tanks, it merely damaged the thickest armor of the glacis, turret, and mantlet. The missiles struck. APCs were annihilated spectacularly as jets of metal plasma sprayed through armor, destroying all. Tanks managed to turn aside rounds with excellent armor design or simply soak up the damage and keep on rolling.

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The order came to advance. "Major" Max smiled as he ordered his armored battalion to advance. The rumble of idling diesel engines turned to a roar as his battalion of tanks along with many other advanced as one across the hills at full speed, tearing up the partially glassed earthen berms that had been protecting them. He sighted a hovertank in from his commander's sight at 10 kilometers.

"Corporal, load and fire KE round."

"Yes sir. Loading KE. Loading propellant."

The corporal pressed a button and magic teleported a APFSDS round into the cannon. A slurry of liquid hydrogen was pumped into the chamber. The gunner traversed the turret. The sight projected the path to the enemy tank. The gunner depressed the trigger. A small plasma charge ignited the hydrogen slurry. This sent the saboted dart out the barrel. The three pieces of the sabot fell apart and the without the increased drag, the dart began to move at a velocity of 7000 meters per second. It hit the side armor of the turret. Somehow, it managed to penetrate the armor. However, it lacked the power to exit the vehicle and bounced around inside the compartment of the tank, turning flesh and bone into something out of a butcher's shop. The tank floated to a halt, killed.

There was a blinding flash of light against his T-73. Streams of pure magical energy whipped across it. Composite armor flashed red and then white as the beam's savage power fell across it. The tank began to jerkily move once more. Max twisted his periscope around. He saw the hover tank in the thermal view.

"Load HEAT," he yelled.

"Loading HEAT," answered the gunner.

Once more the cycle was completed. The faster hovertank darted away, but the gunner caught it in his sights. The round flew from the muzzle with a long gout of fire. It was at a mere three thousand meters per second, a rather low velocity for the electrothermal-chemical combustion light fluid gun. It crossed the distance in around two seconds. Magical shields flared up against the tandem shaped charge warhead. It resisted the first jet of metal plasma, but the seconds destroyed the shield.

"Load KE Penetrator," called "Major" Max

"Loading KE Penetrator," returned the gunner.

The massive gun barked again as the now reasonably cool buster cannon fired. The tungsten carbide dart slammed though a low hill to penetrate the side armor of the tank. The tank slewed to the side before the side hit tipped downward to flip the tank over. That was a mission kill at the very least.

From a bird's eye view, the tanks were unseen against the dark, but the massive flashes of the 127mm guns and the beams of the buster cannons streaked across a dark landscape. Occasionally explosions could be seen or the burning hull of a tank. Crews attempted to crawl from the burning wrecks of vehicles before getting mowed down by the enemy without pity or remorse. It was a battle of the gods of warfare. The TSAB armor had to slow and stop to deal with the countercharging Acturan armor. This was all part of the plan to tie up the TSAB armored advance so the Acturan infantry would not have to abandon the safety of their defensive positions. During the hours of the air battle, the infantry had not been idle, they had made lines of foxholes, low trenches, and sandbags. Barbed wire had been strung up to slow down the enemy as they were cut down by a hail of bullets. Command detonated mines had been set up to send out shotgun blasts of shrapnel to enemies entangled in the wire. Former fields of peace had been turned into fields of war designed to send thousands of men to their deaths.

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Sergeant John Hennessey gathered his squad behind a sandbag wall. It only waist high, so they had to crouch behind it to be afforded a measure of cover. He rechecked his equipment. He still had his rifle. Frag grenades-check. Smoke grenades-check. Four mags and another one already loaded into the rifle-check. Affixed spike bayonet-check. Combat knife-check. He had all his stuff together. Rockets opened up on the floating APCs. On the thermal view, he could see some dodge and others go up in flames. He cheered along with the others when this happened. It wasn't as if the enemy already knew where they were.

APCs dropped off troops before running back to ferry more troops as the battle taxis they were. He sighted in a group of TSAB troops.

"Fire at will!," he yelled before firing off a quick aimed burst at the group of troops.

"Hey Sarge!," called the squad designated marksman, "These TSAB fuckers can't keep their fucking heads down. Can I take 'em out?"

"Go ahead, show those SOBs why keeping your fucking head down is important."

"Taking shot." He paused for a moment then his marksman rifle barked. "Head ventilated."

"Good kill, good kill," replied Hennessey.

"Firing fragger!" called the squad grenadier. The 30mm grenade was projected from the underbarrel launcher to explode into the distance.

They were not alone in their fire. Tens of thousands of rifles opened up along the battle line. Hundreds of machine guns buzzed, firing too quickly for individual shots to be distinguishable. Grenades exploded around them. Missiles flew through the night air. It was an organized chaos. Streaks of mana bolts returned. The APCs added their scything beams to keep heads down low.

Sergeant Hennessey crawled under the fusillade of deadly light that streaked above him. Some of it was absorbed by the sandbags. He raised his rifle overhead and blind fired into the direction of the enemy. Hopefully he had pinned a few down. He tapped PFC Jenkins on the shoulder.

"Jenkins, crawl out there and try and snipe some of those motherfuckers on their machine gun things. They've got us pinned."

"I fucking know we're pinned down, Sarge. But yeah, I'll do it."

The armored man crawled out from the side of the wall, undetected. Jenkins flipped out the bipod of his rifle. One shot. Two shots. Three shots. He then crawled back to the safety.

"Got two of them, but they're advancing troops into the barbed wire without much resistance."

"Fuck!," cursed Hennessey, "I'm going to call in some arty."

He switched channels on his helmet radio to the regimental Fire Direction Center.

"Hey, Sergeant Hennessey here. I need some arty support down here, the heavier the better. We're getting pinned down. I'll spot for you guys."

"Alright, this is Lieutenant Avery Churchill. What do you need?"

"Target neutralization. 100 round fire for effect mission. I'll give the grid locations but make quick; we're fucked if they break through. Umm, A1-5. We've got a few thousand TSAB guys down here along with a few hundred APCs in the open. Infantry is trying to get past the wire obstacles. Area fire, please. Some 240s and 165s would be fabulous. Fire when ready."

"We'll bring down the pain in about five minutes. Hold on tight."

"You're a fuckin' miracle worker, man. Thanks. I'll buy you a pint sometime."

"I expect you to keep that promise, Sergeant."

"No problem. We'll do our best so you do yours."

He turned back to the guys in his unit, "Guess what, we've got arty support! Kill 'em all."

He swallowed his fears and exposed himself above the sandbags to fire. He was emboldened as his men followed his example, pouring out fire. A stream of green tracers flew out of his rifle. He'd purposely loaded his magazine the last rounds would be tracers so he'd know when to switch magazines. He pulled off the helical magazine, clipped it to his vest, and loaded another. They were immortals, invincible warriors. He ducked bolt of mana and returned with a burst of bullets, given new strength by the coming wrath of the king of the battlefield.

These minutes seemed like an eternity as they dodged the bright lights of mana bolts. The other troops around them too moved from the safety of cover to fight. Piece by piece the valorous example spread and men exposed themselves to death to bring death. The whiz and crack of bullets was augmented by the low booming sound of grenade launchers. Some rockets still fired. Machine guns chattered, sending out a veritable buzzsaw of bullets.

The artillery strike finally came. Nearly every kind of artillery was utilized, 165mm gun howitzers, 240mm mortars, 120mm mortars, 80mm mortars, and Hailstorm rockets. They exploded in a symphony of destruction. They had not been alone in calling upon the king of the battlefield. Shrapnel tore men apart. The earth was ripped asunder as if by the wrath of a vengeful god. Men were blown tens of meters into the air, sometimes trailing ropelike intestines. In but one foul swoop, the TSAB soldiers' idea of a clean war was shattered as they witnessed the full horror of war. It was the classic battle of cynicism against idealism. Laying low to protect from fragments, they crawled, bellies in the dirt further into the wire. There was no retreat. Bullets tore into the blasted soil. In the process of annihilating the penetrating infantry. They returned fire as best they could, but the bright lights of the mana bolts sent more bullets their way. It was a determination that any Acturan could admire. The gears of war turned turned as the TSAB forces, although many were dead, fought past the barbed wire. Bullets ripped and tore, but each bolt of mana flash boiled the blood inside of a person's body. Had they been fighting mages, the barrier jacket would have rendered these attacks merely nonlethal, but the Acturan had no barrier jackets. Acturan soldiers collapsed as they were set alight by the bolts, missing limbs or massive chunks of their torsos, soft body armor that could stop a bullet no match for the lethal firepower of the mana rifles. These rifles needed no ammunition and their only concern was heat buildup melting the components.

"Frag out!" called Sergeant Hennessey as he pulled out a grenade. He pulled the pin from the bottom of the handle and hurled the stick grenade overhand. It soared through the air to land amongst a group of foes. He returned to firing his rifle. Though they had nearly every advantage, they were still being pushed back if only centimeter by centimeter. Ever last one was paid for in blood. The first rays of dawn came about as men fought and died. One of his men, Private Archy was hit by a hail of the bolts. He lost his arms, legs, and the lower portion of his torso; however he still lived. Hennessey ran over to the dying man. He fired over the barrier with hand and held his soldier with the other. He cradled the dying man like a father to a son. The man's face was a piece of dissonant serenity. Most men would have been trying to hold in their entrails, but he had nothing to hold them in with.

"Sarge, I'm really fucking tired. Could I get some shut eye?"

"Not yet Archy. Hang in there. We're going to get you patched up. MEDIC!"

There was no one to answer his call.

"C'mon Sarge, just a little..."

"Sure Archy. Sleep well."

"Thanks Sarge..."

A faint pulse ceased and another life ended. Tears streaming down his face, Hennessey jumped out and fired until he could the gun clicked empty

"Fuckers killed Archy! Let's kill them, all of them!"

His soldiers stood beside him and added their guns to the firing. The hail of bullets poured down onto the enemy troops. The return fire sent them ducking for cover. Orders came to retreat; they hurled grenades and used them to supress the enemy as they ran to waiting transports. Another battle had been lost against the TSAB forces, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Nearly ten thousand men and three hundred vehicles had been lost on the ground to say nothing of those lost in the aerial battle. Bodies covered the ground. The burnt, twisted skeletons of vehicles both Acturan and TSAB covered the hilly plains. Bodies and crashed planes too covered the field of war. It had been a once beautiful land, unmarred by the scars of war, but now it was a vision of hell and desolation.


	5. Thousands of Feet March to the Beat

The name of every chapter has been a reference to a song. I'm honestly surprised nobody picked up on that. Another thing that I'm surprised nobody noticed is the "nations make examples of others" part in the beginning of the first chapter which was put in to ironically mock Stuart Slade's (author of Salvation War) sig on Stardestroyer. The gears of war continue to be set in motion as the cogs move.

* * *

Chapter 5

Thousands of Feet March to the Beat

They had been marching for hours. A convoy of trucks, IFVs, tanks, self propelled artillery, self propelled anti-aircraft vehicles, and men, many of whom were walking wounded, horribly maimed by the mana rifles. The infernal flies of TSAB aerial mages hovered overhead, always watching and occasionally diving down to strafe the column. There was no respite and they marched without pause. Whenever mages dived down, they were met with the chatter of machine guns and autcannons and the shrieks of missiles. Every so often a vehicle would explode or troops mowed down. There were no more of the massive pink beams of death. They heard reports of the "White Devil" and "Ace of Aces" Nanoha Takamachi, but to face that kind of firepower in actuality was so much more frightening.

Sergeant Hennessey walked along with the other members of his squad. They could walk unlike the thousands who were wounded and were in trucks, IFVs, and laying on the hulls of tanks. Even some of the wounded were walking in spite of lost limbs. Another group of aerial mages passed above at a low altitude for their strafing run. Tank commanders swung around pintle machine guns to send out hundreds of zipping 7mm arounds. The SPAAG-23s rotated their oversized turrets around as their four 20mm cannons were directed skyward by radar fire control. SPAAG-20s did the same with their twin 45mm cannons. SPAAM-18s had no such need for turret rotation and merely launched out missiles. Small arms were even fired; if they were lucky, they could hit one of the mages that seemed wont to go in for a low level attack.

"Sarge, I've got some bitch in my scope. I'm gonna capture me a POW," called Jenkins.

He remained steady as he looked into the scope. He flipped the safety to automatic and let loose a hail of bullets. He expended an entire magazine and was rewarded when the mage crashed down into the ground.

"One question, Jenkins; how the fuck do you do that?" asked another of the squad members as they ran off to grab the mage.

"I dunno, Art; I just get into a zone when I fire. There's just me and my target and I get a feeling in my bones of just where I need to place the bullets to score a hit. I then pull the the trigger and turn this mental picture into reality."

"That's some real deep philosophy shit for when it comes to the business of killing, Jenkins."

"I know, I know. Let's grab that bitch."

They ran off the road and into the forest. They followed Jenkins who seemed to know where he was going. They found their prize bleeding in a tree. Hennessey handed his gear to Jenkins and climbed up the tree to the still conscious mage. She weakly tried to resist him, but he backhanded her, grabbed her, and climbed back down the tree. They gathered around, pointing the imposing black shapes of rifles at her. Dejectedly, she lay down as Hennessey stripped her down. Whistles and approving remarks were made at her appearance; they wanted to tap that. Hennessey pulled out a first aid kit and administered a small syringe of painkiller, jabbing it into her leg. She screamed something in her native tongue which none of the Acturans could understand.

"Apply some fucking pressure guys. Prisoners are actually useful for shit when alive. I think we've got a broken arm, fractured legs, and bullet wounds on her leg courtesy of our marksman. Some of you go grab some sticks and cut 'em to size with your knives for a splint. I'll start on a cleaning the wound and bandaging her up. Art, watch her pulse and keep her breathing. Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Don't 'sir' me; do I look like a fucking officer to you?"

"Yes Sarge," chorused the squad, used to this particular pet peeve.

Hennessey grabbed the girl, no older then nineteen or twenty, by her face and stroked it with a thumb stained in her blood in an attempt to soothe her as he applied first aid. He pulled out an disinfectant wipe and used that to clean out the wound. She convulsed as the alcohol solution stung as it cleaned up the wound. Pressure managed to slow down the bleeding.

"Shh. Shh. You're gonna live, little girl," said Hennessey as he took off the face concealing helmet to smile. She said something; he, of course, could not understand a damn thing. He applied a tourniquet on her leg. The bleeding slowed and he applied a bandage to the wound. His guys came back with some sticks trimmed down to size for a splint. He grabbed them.

"Any of you guys have some duct tape or something?"

Wordlessly, a roll of the silver stuff was tossed over to him. He taped down the pieces of wood to form a pair of crude splints. Following this, he redressed the girl. Hennessey replaced the first aid kit back into his backpack, put on his helmet, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and picked up the girl. She was pretty with fair skin, light blonde hair, blue eyes, and some nice T&A in his fine opinion.

"POW stabilized, let's get back to the column. I'll carry her, Jenkins."

"Hey Sarge, where'd you learn to do that? I didn't think you were a medic. Why didn't you use that on Archy?"

"I'm was actually a nurse before I was called up for this. Archy was beyond saving with a first aid kit. Medics have the sort of stuff that would stop the bleeding and keep him alive; I don't have that shit in a first aid kit."

"Why didn't you become a medic, Sarge? Not that I don't like you here or anything."

"You ever seen a battlefield hospital? If so you'll know why. I never want to see one again in my life, especially not after that insurgency. Modern weapons do some real nasty shit to people."

"Lemme guess, you were a first responder to the gas attacks the terrorists used?"

"Damn straight I was! We were ordered to bring the wounded out to one of those big ass tent hospitals, those cowardly fuckers having already blown up the hospitals. Mustard gas, phosgene, chlorine, all that nasty shit had been used. Let me add this, there were some of those motherfuckers in the area firing at first responders like me. Damn those fuckers, may they rot in hell. Mustard gas is absorbed through the skin and it causes both external and internal blistering. You got that right, blisters inside of you. Fucking phosgene causes a buildup of fluid in the lungs, so you need to get a tube down the windpipe to pump out the fluid and keep them breathing, and it acts a god damn motherfucking blood agent too! Chlorine isn't quite as deadly as mustard gas and fucking phosgene, but it bonds with mucus and water to form hydrochloric acid in the lungs, in the fucking lungs. As I was saying, so we somehow got those still alive out to the tent hospital. Some of 'em were going to die anyway, so we had to put them out it special tents away from those who could be saved, give them a shot of painkiller, and leave them to die. 'Just triage,' you might think, but it gets real nasty when you've got to do this some little four or five year old girl who is blind, covered in blisters, and choking to death from lungs already half full with fluid. While you're carrying her out so others can be saved, she's all crying for her mommy and you've got to shush her and tell her its alright even though she has a few hours at best. You can't really give her any painkillers because the dosage would kill her. You lay her down on a bed inside a tent filled with other dying people. You've got to smell the vomit and feces and all that nice stuff and leave the little girl on a cot like this. You try to comfort her, maybe holding here hand, but you get called off to deal with more folks arriving in who may be in a worse state than that little girl. By the end of the day, your arms are probably covered in blood from trying to heal because there aren't enough doctors to go around and you're just a nurse, so you have to learn surgery real quick. This lucky bitch probably has no need to worry about shit like that when they've got 'magic,' no fucking worries, no need to get down and dirty like the rest of us."

"Holy shit, Sarge. Holy shit."

"That's why I'm not a medic, I don't want to ever deal with that again. Kind of selfish, but it was actually recommended by those fellows that treat PTSD. Let's catch up with the column with our prisoner. Again, nice shooting Jenkins."

"Sarge, what should we do with her? I'm personally for killing her now," asked PFC Draken, the squad grenadier.

"Why?"

"This fucking bitch is one of the people that have been strafing us and blowing us up. Now we can get some revenge."

"That may be true, but it's no excuse for that behavior. They are people too. She's probably a nice person like you or I."

"Sure are Sarge, but they're attacking us. Ahmed over in First Squad is a nice guy too, and he just saw five of his buddies blown apart and had Omar, the best man at his wedding and little bro', try to scrape up his stomach before dying in his arms. Now that shit ain't right."

"I'll admit you've got a point there, Draken, but if we were to abuse a prisoner, we'd be just as bad as they are."

"You seem pretty calm after saying your going to kill 'em all. You really gonna pass up an opportunity for revenge for Archy?"

"Hey Draken."

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up. I am pulling rank on your punk ass. We are the Acturan Republican Army; we're the good guys, liberators, protectors, professionals. We don't do any sort of shit like that. We treat our prisoners humanely. None of this bullshit, Private. I understand that you're pissed. I'm pissed off too. However, you gotta deal with it. Think of it this way, whenever we treat one of them humanely, we spit in their face as they expect us to mistreat and abuse prisoners. I'm all for spitting in their faces."

"Yeah. Sorry, Sarge. I'm just so fuckin' pissed at what happened to Ahmed and Omar, we were battle buddies during basic. We had some great adventures, but it really changes a man, y'know. One second, I was there, talking with the two of them when a flight of mages come overhead. They launch their seeker things and they exploded around us. Five guys were just blown apart. The lucky ones closest were turned to pink mist and the the guys around them were set ablaze and had their skin melt off. Omar pushed Ahmed and I out of the way of one. After the smoke cleared, Omar was still there, but missing most of his lower torso, trying to scoop his stomach and guts back in. We ran over to his side as he screamed for his mother. So yeah, I'm pretty pissed about Omar."

"Dude, s'okay. We're squadmates, a band of brothers as they say," said Art.

"Anyone know Mid-Childan? We've got to get her name, rank, and serial number. Standard operating procedure, and I doubt she knows Acturan," asked Hennessey.

"Yeah, a little," replied Lance Corporal Arthur "Art."

"Can you ask her if she surrenders and her name, rank, and serial number?"

"I think so, I haven't spoken it sinceI took it as an elective in high school, but I don't think they have serial numbers."

"What about asking which unit she's from in place of the serial number, Art?"

"Lemme think for a second... Yeah, I can ask that," answered Art after some consideration.

Hennessey jostled the lucid girl into alertness. Her eyes went wide as if this were some bad dream come true. Art walked over, clad head to toe in the armor.

"I are Lance Corporal Arthur C. Perry. You is prisoner. Surrender do you? Name? Rank? What unit you are from being?" asked Art in his broken Mid-Childan.

Their prisoner paused for a moment, trying to make sense of his mangling of the language and replied, "I surrender. I am Flight Combat Mage Second Class Lindy Capricia, Rank D of the 117th Patrol Squadron."

"Judging by her look of of utter confusion, you sound like a complete and utter moron in Mid-Childan. That is an epic fail, good sir," snarked Jenkins.

xxxxxxxxx

"I could have done so much like supporting the ground troops, if you had but let me do something," said one angry Nanoha Takamachi.

Hayate sighed and replied, "Admiral's orders. The same goes for Fate, the Wolkenritter, and myself. 'The Acturans are crude foes, but I'll grudgingly admit that they are honorable ones and they would not use weapons of mass destruction against us provided that we do not do the same against them.' And don't accuse me of anything, I'm just quoting the Admiral himself. I need some fresh air; wanna go' out for a bit."

"Sure. It just seems as though so many more would have lived if we'd been allowed to do something."

They moved off to the side as a line of walking wounded came past. Many were nursing bandages around their midsections from the lethal spray of shrapnel created by the stick grenades. Some nursed broken arms from the energy transfer of the bullets. Others were missing arms or blinded by shrapnel. It was a macabre parade of mutilated men and women.

Hayate and Nanoha grimaced at the physical scars of war. They walked through the camp.

"Hey Hayate, where's Rein?" inquired Nanoha.

"She's off helping with managing the offloading of supplies. As they say, amateurs study tactics, veterans study strategy, and masters study logistics," replied

"Bad as it is for us, its got to be worse for them," commented Nanoha as they watched the ordered chaos of the base.

"I just hope we win. How have you been Nanoha? I bet it was terrible not to have Fate in bed with you. Not that I mind if you swing the other way; I won't discriminate."

"But I'm straight, Hayate!" Nanoha complained.

"Sure. That's what you want us to think even as you ravage our poor sweet Fate," said Hayate in mock disgust

"Bu-Bu-" stuttered Nanoha.

"I don't see any denying it," Hayate pressed.

"Like you have any sort of moral high ground, Miss Gropes-A-Lot."

"You wound my virtue, O evil Nanoha."

"No, I wound the wound the empty hole where your virtue would be," deadpanned Nanoha.

"You wish to remove my virtue. You are more depraved than I thought."

"For heaven's sake, I'm not a lesbian. I'm straight-" argued Nanoha

"-as a rainbow."

"As an arrow, thank you very much. We are not in a romantic relationship. We are merely heterosexual life partners."

"Sure you are," sarcastically replied Hayate.

xxxxxxxxx

The troopers looked toward the sky as multiple sonic booms split the air, crashing through their own sound waves. They had air support contesting the skies. They cheered, willing the fighter pilots to win and regain air superiority.

Smiley opened up weapons bays. One Mortal flew out. Around him, the other members of Raven Squadron, Wraith Squadron, and Mobius Squadron launched a volley of missile fire.

"Good kill, Mobius 1. I still don't get why you don't have a callsign."

"I'm fine as Mobius 1, Smiley. I'll call you Smiley and not Raven 3, and you won't try and get me to change my callsign from Mobius 1."

"Alright Mobius 1. Got it."

"Eleven bandits at two o' clock. Gentleman, shall we scatter the roaches?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Mobius 1," responded Spooky, Wraith Squadron's leader.

"Open weapons bays and ready to fire two Griffons on my mark," directed Mobius 1.

"Bays open, locked on."

"Mark."

Fourteen missiles streaked from internal weapons bays.

"Raven forward. Wraith up. Mobius around," called Mobius 1 as he directed the airplanes.

"Smiley, Joker. Three Mortals, zoom and boom 'em."

The planes slowed down as they opened up weapons bays while waiting to get into the the eleven kilometer range of the Mortals. It took seconds to reach the launch point, seconds enough to gain a lock. Weapons bay doors sprung open and nine missiles dropped before streaking away at many times the speed of sound. The three planes immediately hit the afterburners, accelerating to Mach 4. As they banked off, still supersonic, the next volley of missiles flew out at the formation from the diving Wraith Squadron before they pulled up and away from the mages. Mobius Squadron flew angled away from the flight of mages before using off boresight targeting to send out their own volley of missiles. The twelves mages had thirty five incoming missiles and only a few seconds to dodge them. They were utterly wiped out by the blasts of shrapnel.

"Let's see, we had fourteen total kills today. What say two kills each since it's kinda hard to tell who killed what with the volley fire? That sound good everyone?" asked Raven.

He was met by a chorus of assent.

"Guess what, Raven; I'm now an ace. That'll be six kills now."

"Nice Smiley."

"Gentleman, circle the area until we're relieved by the 1337th Flight in about an hour."

"This will be boring," commented the usually silent Joker.

xxxxxxxxx

The scientists made notes while watching several large tubes. The air was kept frigid. Inside each tube was something almost like the beginning of a man. There were simply skeletons with unblinking eyes (for they had no eyelids) and a plethora of mostly formed internal organs.

One scientist finished with his observations and stated, "Basic organ structure fully formed. Proceed with adding the special organs."

He walked up to the glass and whispered, "We're going to make you the best there ever was. We've also got a war out there, so you need to live to see it. Hang in there."

Small robots lifted another organ up and began to attach it to the framework of bone. Deft metal hands worked quickly to attach it. It worked safely.

"Excellent. Phase One is now completed. Begin Phase Two will soon begin."

The scientists couldn't help but feel they were being watched by something other than the security cameras and guards. They seemed to shake it off, but there was still a lingering fear, a fear of the dark. They left the room as the first phase was finished for all the other things in the test tubes.

The head scientist lingered for a moment to say quietly but one last thing, "Sweet dreams."

xxxxxxxxx

Night arrived as the army finally reached where they wanted to go. They had not only evergreens to conceal themselves, but a subtle illusion. The army halted. The earth appeared to cave inward and form a ramp. The army marched on into the bowels of the earth. Within hours, the army was swallowed up by the earth.

"Home sweet home," sighed Hennessey, "Art, go take the rest of the guys to get a good bunk. Jenkins, with me. We're going to see what the LT wants us to do with our prisoner."

Inside the cavernous area, tanks rolled into what was a glorified parking lot alongside all the other vehicles. Men and women on foot milled around doing a variety of jobs around the underground base. Some gravitated immediately toward the bar. They walked around, searching for their platoon commander. She, however, was nowhere to be found. An old man with Colonel ranks walked out. He was a tank commander, his cooling vest, special open-faced helmet, and carbine determined that much. They snapped to attention around him. Jenkins saluted him and Henessey did as best he could.

"At ease. You aren't required to salute me when you're inside, men, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

"Colonel, we're from the 597th Infantry Battalion, 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, 2nd Squad. I'm Sergeant Hennessey and he's PFC Jenkins. We captured a prisoner. What should we do with the POW?"

"The one you have with you?"

"Yes sir."

"I'll find out for you two, but watch the prisoner yourselves for the moment. See me tomorrow about it."

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem Sergeant. Carry on."

They again saluted him and took one step back before performing an about face and walking off. They made their way through the crowd. They were greeted by Private Foster.

"Corporal got us one of the better bunks. Eight beds and close the mess and and close but not too close to the head."

"Alright, take me and Jenkins over to our bunk."

They were taken over the bunk, No. 8 to be precise. It was a simple accommodation, a square cement room with four double bunk beds. Hennessey placed their prisoner on one of the bottom bunks.

"Hey Art," called Hennessey.

"Yeah, Sarge. What do you want?" asked the lance corporal.

"Ask the prisoner, whatever her name is, if she needs to use the head."

Art knelt down and asked in broken Mid-Childan, "Are you needing to use the head?"

"What's a 'head'?" she asked incredulously.

"Are you needing to take a piss?"

"Yes. So a 'head' is a restroom?"

"Yes."

"She does, Sarge," replied Art in his native tongue.

"Fuck it. Jenkins, get one of the MPs. We're gonna turn the prisoner over to them. They'll have a better idea on what to do. In the meantime, I'm going to change into something more comfortable and take a nap. Anyone else is free to do so."

That said, he pulled off the helmet. He then unsealed the jacket with a hiss of air, then unzipped it, and pulled it off. He did the same with the trousers and was left in boxers and an undershirt before opening up his backpack to put on his khaki utilities.

"Wake me up whenever Jenkins comes back," said Hennessey as he climbed onto the top bunk and fell asleep after marching for eighteen straight hours.


	6. On Your Feet, Let's Go

Chapter 6

On Your Feet, Let's Go

General Parker outlined the plan for Operation: Rolling Thunder. It was an armored shock assault supported by offshore naval units and aerial forces. The Marines were going offload their forces in a landing to catch the TSAB forces in a pincer with the Army Forces. A proceeding four hour bombardment from air, land and sea was to suppress forces and lay down a screen of gas, nonlethal of course; he didn't want to violate the unspoken agreement of all nations not to use weapons of mass destruction like chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear, and a few more esoteric types of weapons. However, things like tear gas were exempt from this restriction as they were non lethal on their own. Using tear gas followed up by bullets was completely acceptable. The TSAB appeared to have no gas drill and protection was available to all of his troops. If they didn't bother with such a crude and inelegant weapon that was their problem. The strategic bomber forces were being readied for combat. Thousands upon thousands of tanks and millions of troops were being mustered up for the offensive. Billions of rounds of ammunition were to be used, a definite strain on the ammunition factories. However, the problem was that it would take approximately one month to ready forces for the offensive. By that time, it was within the realm of possibility that he would be signing terms of surrender. Hopefully, he could last long enough to get the Project finished. That might turn the tide.

"General, we've received a dispatch from High Command. We're on our own as all the other worlds of being invaded," said an aide.

"Well shit. Not that that changes anything. We'll hold out as long as reasonably possible."

"Um Sir," began the aide nervously.

"What is it? You have permission to speak freely."

"What if Home is defeated before we are?"

"I don't know, son. I don't know. Should we keep fighting or should we give up if that were to happen? It's a damn tough choice, but leave it to me, alright."

He gently ruffled the aide's hair. At an age of twenty, the aide was young enough to be General Parker's son. He was known for being a good commander, kind man, and a father to his men, and it showed in the admiration and dedication of his soldiers both to him and the Acturan cause. No matter who won, he'd be assured a place in the history books as either a glorious hero or an evil villain. Nothing would really remember Oscar Parker, the kind philanthropist or Oscar Parker, the faithful husband, or Oscar Parker, the loving father, or Oscar Parker, the friendly neighbor. All these memories and places would lie unmentioned and forgotten to the annals of history, like teardrops in the rain.

xxxxxxxxx

"Sarge. Sarge. Hey Sarge," called someone, rousing Hennessey. He couldn't quite place who it was. He opened his eyes to find Jenkins right next to him/

"Sarge, I can't find any MP s, but I found the LT. She got hit in the leg by a bolt, losing it at the knee, but she's still hanging in there."

"Nothing could kill that bitch," he said fondly, "You take the prisoner to the head."

"But I'm a guy for fuck's sake. It isn't polite to do that."

"If you're uncomfortable about that, take her to the men's head, but it would stink the bunk to hell if she were to shit or piss on herself. I'm not suggesting for you to do it, I'm ordering you to do it."

"Can do, Sarge."

Hennessey closed his eyes and heard Jenkins grab their prisoner and taker her out.

"So our LT is still here. Hey Sarge, ya still wanna fuck her?" asked Foster

"Hell yeah, an amputee is fine too."

"That's what they said about cats, and they're wrong."

"Did you try to fuck a kitty cat or something? You into bestiality?"

"No and that would be physically impossible due to the size of my dick."

"Bullshit Private, your dick is so tiny, you could totally fuck a kitty cat."

"Up yours, Sarge. Fuck you."

"No, I'm the one doing the fucking. I left your sister quite satisfied with my massive cock in her tight pussy."

"Oh really, Sarge; your mom was more than satisfied with the size of my dick as I screwed her last night."

"So we're all one big dysfunctional family, Foster."

"That's how I reckon it seems."

There was silence for a few minutes, before Art asked, "What do you guys think of our prisoner, Lindy?"

Hennessey answered, "She's got nice tits -not ridiculously huge, not flat, and all natural with a healthy jiggle to them- and a nice, firm ass. I'd totally hit that. If all their women are like that, I might consider switching sides if only for the sex."

"But Sarge, what about our fine beauties? That said, I have to agree with you on that assessment of our prisoner. However, I'd like to add one more thing. She's got some nice legs and a real cute face. I don't know who created a female dress code of short skirts and high stockings, but I've got to thank them for that service to men everywhere. I mean -damn- that is some sexy stuff," commented Private Ryan El'Jonson.

"So, Sarge, is that why you were carrying her? Was it to feel that firm, round ass and soft tits?" inquired Private Luke Orek.

"Tits are the best pillows ever, and you are merely in denial or a homo if you disagree," sagely answered the sergeant while still not answering the question, "They call 'em funbags for a reason."

"Damn straight," agreed Foster.

"I want to learn some Mid-Childan," stated Hennessey out of the blue.

"So you can screw the prisoner?" asked Art skeptically

"Hell yeah! Like you wouldn't want to tap that. She definitely looks like a good lay."

An embarrassed and rather flustered Jenkins returned to the bunk, prisoner in tow.

"Uh Sarge, what should we do with our guns? I don't want her shooting us in the middle of the night."

"Shit. Let's put our weapons in the armory. Totally forgot about that one, guys. Jenkins, watch the prisoner and hand me your rifle and grenades. By the way, did the prisoner get you all hot and bothered."

Jenkins did not respond, something that Hennessey took as an affirmative answer. The six men then walked out from their bunk to the armory. It was surprisingly quiet for a military base, which meant the noise level was a dull roar rather than a loud one. The armory was a long area filled with rows and rows of lockers. They found some unoccupied ones. He picked number 683 and held his ID card up to the scanner. It registered him in within a few moment and unlocked the locker. Hennessey unlocked the locker and placed his sheathed combat knife in first and detatched the bayonet from its lug. He checked that the safety was on, pulled the mag out of the gun, popped the round from the chamber, pushed it back into the magazine, and then placed the gun into the locker. He placed all the other magazines into the locker and carefully removed each and every grenade, treating them with utmost care, and placed them too into the locker. The process was being repeated by the other members of the squad, all very respectful of the weapons they were handling. Safety had been drilled into them time again along with the knowledge that weapons were not toys, but rather tools des igned to kill and maim men with efficiency and speed.

"Hey Art, hold Jenkins' shit. I've got to grab his ID to get him a locker. Gotta run."

Hennessey ran off to the bunks. They waited a few minutes for him to return, and he did to place Jenkin's stuff into. The squad then returned to their bunk to sleep, secure in their safety.

xxxxxxxxx

Yoko "Doombitch" Caerys lay flat on the ground. She knew she might be able to make it to Acturan lines, but she was trained to resist interrogation were the unthinkable to happen. She did a quick inventory of her weapons. She had her service pistol, a flat sided, black, semi-automatic and forty rounds of caseless 10x23mm ammo in magazines. She already had the gun loaded. She also had a combat knife with her. She wasn't worried about capture. The anti-rape glasses would prevent any sort of sexual harassment. Who was she kidding; she was worried about what would happen if she were captured by the enemy.

She heard footsteps and made herself smaller and slowing cocked the hammer of the pistol. The gun in her hand was as reassuring weight. It was an intoxicating power. Her hands might later care for child, cook a meal, or work in some civilian part of civilian life, but her hands would always remember the gun and its power. The hands would remember the cold weight, the black rubber grip, and the fascinating intricacies of metal parts meshing together in perfect synchronization to send out death in hot lead.

She saw the patrol of TSAB soldiers with their brown BDUs and grey combat armor. What would she do if they spotted her? Would the bullet penetrate their magical shields? Would they simply waste her then and there? Would they rape her? All these thought came into her mind. Her heart rate increased and adrenaline was pumped throughout her body. She lined up a shot with the head of the TSAB soldier in the rear. It was a good thing that the gun was a entirely covered in a matte black finish or she would have been spotted by the glare.

One of the soldiers shouted something. She paused in fear and pulled on the trigger with only a little bit more pressure required to pull the trigger and let the bullets come through. The enemies spread out, obviously searching for something. She had no time to scream as a stunner bolt slammed into her and put her into unconsciousness. As she was stunned, the magic caused her muscles to convulse and twitch as a side effect. There was a massive flash and a roar as the gun discharged its deadly load. The jacketed round plowed into the armor of one, spinning him around and onto his ass as it embedded itself into the shoulder plate.

Some hours later, Yoko awoke, sore all over. She immediately noticed the absence of her flight suit. Instead, she was wearing a simple, knee-length dress of a plain grey material. She still had her glasses, ugly as they may have been.

"Where the fuck am I? Shit. Fuck. Everything fucking hurts," she groaned, "Oh yeah, I got hit with something. Fuck. I'm a prisoner now." She tilted her head back. "Shit."

"You too," came another tired voice.

"Who might you be?" asked the female pilot.

"AFC Johnson."

"Airman Caerys. They done any interrogations?"

"Nah. Not yet. We pounded them pretty damn hard on the ground from what it seems."

"Damn straight. We're the Acturan military. If we're defending, you're going to have to pay in blood for every last centimeter. If we're attacking, you're going to face an unstoppable steamroller."

"Agreed. Damn fuckin' straight."

"Hey, you hear that whistling noise-"

"Oh shit! Hit the dirt with ears plugged and mouth open!"

The pair of captured pilots pressed themselves close to the ground. A series of muffled the muffled _crumps_ of explosions slammed into the ground. The sound was that unique sound of incoming base-bleed 165mm shells. The force of the artillery shook and rattled the ground. After minutes of terror, wondering if the next shell was to hit you. The bombardment ceased as the tubes moved reposition to avoid counterbattery fire.

"Damn. Now I know what its like to be under one of our artillery bombardments. Ho~ly fucking shit," commented Yoko.

A pair of TSAB soldiers in their brown fatigues and and the silver of their what the Acturans had dubbed as mana rifles (which were actually mass produced storage devices). In accented Acturan, one of soldiers commanded for them to stand up, before they were marched out. The air outside was a hot and fairly dry. Around them, prefab structures stretched out.

"These guys can barely march in step," scoffed Yoko before asking her comrade, "Do you want to show them some good marching."

"If it serves as a means to slight them, I see no reason not to," replied Johnson.

"Quiet there," commanded one of the soldiers, although the grasp of the language was less then satisfactory. It was fairly obvious to the pair of Acturans that he simply couldn't follow it as quickly as a native speaker would say it.

The two marched walked side by side and began to align for the marching. Chest out, hands in a natural curl, back straight. Yoko called the cadence.

"Left! Left! Left, Right! Right! Left! Left! Left, Right! Right! Left! Left! Left, Right! Right! Left..."


	7. City at War

I know that this particular chapter sucked in its original version. My readers, I now present to you what is my longest chapter to date. It is approximately double the length of the original chapter. I am also including all of the notes and tidbits I've released on both TFF and Spacebattles. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 7

City at War

"Sergeant Hennessey, you are a fucking moron. Once this shit is over and we get cycled away from the front, you and your squad are pulling KP duty for two fucking weeks. 'Oh we have a prisoner, why don't we leave ourselves unarmed because we don't know where the fucking brig is and are worried about getting shot.' I'm disappointed. Instead, you should have kept your guns and all that other equipment you put in the armory with you and had a rotating watch. At least you proved yourself capable of independent action; we don't need NCOs that can't think on their own."

"Sorry sir; it won't happen again. Do you know where the MPs are?"

"Yes. Don't move. I'll call them over."

Colonel "Major" Max sighed as he called over some of the military police to detain the prisoner that Hennessey and his squad had captured. The black uniformed soldiers came after a few minutes to take the prisoner. They nodded to the Colonel Max and Sergeant Hennessey, They left as wordlessly as they came.

"Get your ass over to the transports, son. Let's smash them under boots and treads. Have you heard of the Battle of of Metatraekios City?"

"Yes sir. Thirty years ago, General Jack Ripper smashed apart the native forces at their capital in a three month urban battle. That finished the war for the planet."

"I fought in that war, though I was but a Major back then. We had a jolly time getting our T-70s into side streets and then hiding them inside buildings. So, we'd do that, load up some canister rounds, and turn off the engines. Then whenever the enemies would walk by, we'd fire the gun. The shot would easily punch through walls and into the infantry in front of us. The blast would blow down a wall and we'd then go charging out. That was some fun shit and the look of shock on their faces never grew old. You crunchies had better watch our back so we can smash apart the enemy," fondly stated the formerly angry officer.

"You'd better punch a hole so us boots on the ground can go in and get shit done," returned the infantry sergeant.

"Ah, but you crunchies are the ones supporting the armored advance and taking out anything below the notices of our tanks."

"Nah Colonel, you're the ones drawing all the fire, so we can go in and do some killing."

"Killing crunchies is fun and easy, boy."

"Killing tanks is fun and easy, sir. Ya just need some of rockets hidden on top of buildings or at ground level. Of course they need a countermass, so you don't die if the rocket is fired in an enclosed area. Few of those, we call 'em tread-fuckers, to the top or treads will take out a tank, a mission kill at the least."

"Of course, but that's why we've got countermeasures and armor. Not just any old composite armor, but composite armor reinforced with a magical matrix, which allows you to literally stack armor plates of the same size into the same space, so each plate individual plate of armor is the equivalent of the the full thickness of the nonmagical armor on the old T-70A1. Due to some magical physics-fucking each resulting plate is not hyperdense for some reason, so T-70A3 weights the same as the A1 and A2, but has literally ten times the protection of the A1 and five times that of the A2, the first to incorporate the magical matrix armor, albeit not nearly as good as what we've got on the current A3."

"The current issue man portable anti-tank missile can penetrate about six meters of rolled-homogeneous steel armor with its tandem warhead. Your tanks packing that much protection?"

"Lemme do some quick math. Each of the old A1 plates was the equivalent of 200mm of RHA and there were two plates at the thinnest. Current armor would be 4000mm of RHA at the thinnest and 12000mm at the thickest. You could kill one of the T-70A3s if the rocket hit the right spot, assuming the active protection doesn't jam or destroy it," said the Colonel.

"But if we're talking urban warfare, than you're gonna be hit with a few from multiple directions," replied Hennessey

"Do that to their stupid hovertanks. We'll give their infantry a taste of big 'n nasty."

"What's a big 'n nasty, sir?"

"It's what we tankers call the 127mm main gun."

"Got it. See you later, sir."

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The meeting room was well furnished with fine wooden paneling and expensive red carpeting over polished wooden floors. This was by no means standard and had been paid for entirely out of pocket by Oscar Parker. A few lights around this comfortable room gave it warm look. An finely carved table of a dark brown wood with streaks of lighter colored wood was in the center with several green upholstered chairs. A holotank was located in the center of the table displaying a diagram of the planet of Datros. Six of the world's most powerful men were seated at the table: Field Marshal Oscar Parker, General Augustine Colata, General Hugh Ratman, General Raul Sabaton, General Sarah Jasperson, and Admiral Jack Sinclair.

"Gentleman, we need to figure out a way to stop their advance. What say you?" asked General Augustine Colata, an old and respected veteran.

"We could trade space for time to create a large force of a few hundred thousand men and then sweep through their outnumbered forces, defeating them at a strategic level by sending their forces to the wrong sectors, making them think that forces are elsewhere. For example, say we have an inexperienced army in one sector and a more experienced force in one area. We could trick them into going at the more experienced troops where they think the inexperienced one are while sending other forces to exploit how we tied up their offensive," suggested General Ratman, a rail thin man with a friendly, reassuring aura about him.

"I do like that idea, but they have orbital superiority. I really don't think we could do that undetected. What about luring them into a city fight where we can exploit our ability to take losses and grind them down. We can tie up their offensive and if they lose enough of their forces, we can exploit their free press by getting them to show the horrors of urban warfare. If we can get them to believe that war is not worthwhile, we can get them to withdraw," commented the recently appointed Field Marshall Oscar Parker. He now had full command over the military forces of the planet.

"We could let them over-extend themselves. Once their lines thin, we can get behind and destroy them with concentrated firepower," suggested General Sarah Jasperson, a dusky skinned woman who was the youngest member of the group at 35.

"The problem I feel with that is that it relies on them not bringing in more troops. What can you do about it, Sinclair?" asked General Sabaton, a large man who had worked his way through the ranks from Private to General over his forty years of service.

"It is possible to hit them with anti-spaceship missiles from our boomers, but that really is it. The surface-to-orbit railguns are actually our best bet for taking out ships. However, we are more than capable of bombardment and transport. Given our enemy's lack of naval forces, our primary role will likely end up being convoy escort. I doubt that enemy forces can pierce the battlescreens of our ships. We probably could even survive an Arc-en-Ciel attack albeit with heavy damage," commented the old admiral.

"I think we're going to do put them off balance by baiting TSAB forces into attacking somewhere where we can bog them down -an anvil, if you will- while the hammer of our other forces circle around to take them from the rear," stated Parker.

"It seems sound to me," commented Jasperson.

"May I call a vote on this?" inquired the Field Marshal.

The vote was 3-2 in favor of the plan.

"Let's get busy then; I wouldn't want to make it easy for them."

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Arkaios was one of the more important city's in the northern regions of Datros. The city was home to 500,000 people and was a major port center. There were oil rigs out off the coast, heavily protected by the Republican Navy of Acturus (RNA). It also contained massive refineries and storage areas for the precious fuel. The city also contained a naval base to both take advantage of the harbor and to protect the fuel supplies. If these were to be captured or destroyed, local Acturan forces would be out of fuel in the local area within a month and would need to rely on flying in fuel from other areas. It however was not the only one of its kind for there were several other large port cities with similar economic value. It, however, was closest to the invading TSAB force.

"I believe that we should attack and seize Arkaios to cripple Acturan operations within the local area. They also seem to be regrouping their forces around the city. Currently, there are only three regiments that we know of at the city. I expect that there are six regiments at the city. However, jamming from Acturan mages has made intelligence gathering difficult," said Brigadier General Shikinami, commander of TSAB operations on the ground.

"Why don't we just partially shift the space and then gather intel while they can't do anything?" asked Lieutenant Colonel Yagami.

"From some scans that we have done on their prisoners, every Acturan receives an inoculation against magical diseases. This provides enough of a magical residue to them, that they are unaffected if we try that. I think we should make use of our momentum and hit them while they are regrouping at Arkaios. If we don't, then they'll just grind us down."

"Bypass it. Just bypass the city. On Earth, we had a war called World War 2. Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union ended up fighting over a city called Stalingrad. In short, the Nazis lost and they were never able to recover from losses taken at the Battle of Stalingrad. Now part of this was due to the incompetence of Hitler, but even when the Nazis controlled 90% of the city, the Soviets held out until they were relieved. The Germans were trapped in the city for months and ended up being defeated. The battle was known for some of the most brutal urban combat ever. The total casualties were around 2 million from both sides. Pardon my language, but we would be fucked if that were to happen to us," said Hayate.

"What do you suggest as an alternative? We know that their forces are gathering at the city. The admiral wants a decisive victory. I've also got to worry about reporters who want a decisive victory. We don't have enough people to spread out, so we need to use our speed to hit them hard before they can regroup. During the battle for Metatraikios City, they utilized 2 million men on the battle for the plains outside the city."

"What about Crastian and Velnarus? They are similar and we can beat the Acturans indirectly. They are lightly garrisoned and can cut off the Acturans from fuel."

"I'd be decried for civilian casualties if I did that and current intelligence indicates that they have large forces gathered in that sector while the remnants of the forces we fought are being positioned in Arkaios.. Also, they seem to have a ridiculously quick method of moving forces around. Given what we know about the tanks, it should have taken them 4-7 days to reach the Arkaios, but they are over there in two days. If we move over there, they could probably redeploy to attack us and we don't know how they do manage that. If I can beat them at Arkaios, the bulk of the resistance will be shattered. This would be similar to what would happen if the Soviets were to disrupt Operation REFORGER, or something of that vein that you mentioned before. That way, I can get some breathing room, and we can actually start liberating these oppressed people."

"You can trace cause of war to economic reasons. We didn't agree with what the Republic had been doing and we set up an embargo and many of our allies followed. Once they continued, we set up a blockade around them. In a disproportionate response, they sent out a naval force to attack the orbital naval yards of Capricon. That's pretty much how we came to invade them. They have sent out a few commerce raiders and blockade runners operating out of deep space bases and we have yet to find those."

"They've been doing commerce raiding? That's a surprise, I thought we had destroyed their naval forces?"

"From what I overheard, their shipyards are located in deep space and are armed to the teeth. It's nice that they didn't have the entire force around this world, otherwise we could have run into some problems. Some of them were out for refit with shielding for trials."

"Wow, we got off topic. However, I believe the best course of action is to push for Arkaios where we can break their forces and disrupt resistance. They appear to be weak there. We can't afford to keep taking losses like we did on the landing zone. That said, I will take into account what you said about avoiding fighting in the city itself."

"Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed, Colonel."

"Thank you, sir."

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The Acturans had hidden a large force in the city of Arkaios, both in the military network of subterranean underground tunnels and the city itself. The only civilians there were the ones employed in the operation of the port. The Air Force made token efforts to prevent the TSAB from performing recon in order to feign weakness where they were strong. Therefore, the TSAB was aware of the presence of three regiments, two light and one heavy. The Acturan army was mostly composed of a combination of light and heavy regiments with support regiments of specialists like engineers. Each regiment consisted of a several battalions of soldiers. In the case of a heavy regiment, it was composed of one battalion of self-propelled artillery, one battalion of tanks, one battalion of self propelled anti-air vehicles, and two battalions of mechanized infantry. A light regiment was composed of a battalion of towed artillery, a battalion of towed and man portable anti-air batteries, and three battalions of infantry. The forces of light regiment were transported entirely by halftrack, and as such, they had greater strategic mobility and were less logistics intensive than heavy regiments. Furthermore, each light regiment contained more soldiers than a heavy regiment.

In total, this bait consisted of sixty tanks, thirty-six self-propelled howitzers, twelve self-propelled multiple rocket launchers, seventy-two infantry fighting vehicles, thirty light self-propelled AA guns, fifteen medium self-propelled AA guns, a further fifteen self-propelled surface-to-air missile launchers, thirty-six towed howitzers, one-hundred and eight mortars of varying sizes, one-hundred and forty-four man-portable SAM teams, thirty-six quad 20mm towed AA guns, thirty-six twin 45mm towed AA guns, and two-thousand three-hundred and eighty-four infantry soldiers. This, of course, did not count the noncombatants of the regiments. However, eight light regiments and four heavy regiments were hidden in the city. The 101st Air Cavalry Regiment, the Birds of War, were also organized to serve a crucial part in the battle plan. The Acturans knew their forces, and they knew the forces of their enemy. In contrast, the TSAB forces were not aware of the true strength of the Acturan defenders.

The land around the city was flat around coastal plains but there were large forests to the east of the city. Because of their technology, the TSAB artillery positions set up around the city were covered in passive-matrix active-camouflage tarps. These used similar technology to the battle uniforms of the Acturan troops. These tarps also provided protection from magical scanning. Small scale battlescreen generators were set up around heavy static positions to protect from return fire. A long minefield along the likely avenue of TSAB approach was laid under camouflage tarps at nightfall.

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"Remember newbies, 'one pass, haul ass.' You won't be able to outfly them. Take full advantage of the range of your missiles and stick with your squadron. It's our job to keep the air mages off the gropos' backs. We're going to be launching several waves of aircraft in a sweep. Ya see, we're scattering the roaches so the flying fortresses of our bombers can get through and blow shit up."

The dozens of new, fresh pilots on the base acknowledged the advice of their comrades who had fought the TSAB forces. The pilots were going to be on standby until the launch of the opposing forces. Upon that time, the fighter forces were to commence and aerial sweep to blow open a hole for attack planes and bombers to get through and blow them to hell.

The Republican Air Force of Acturus (RAFA) used two main aircraft for this purpose, the B-45 strategic bomber and A-18 attack VTOL. The B-45 Thundergod was a massive, high-flying eight engined craft that could drop 30,000 kilos of ordnance. The A-18 Hornet was a fairly large twin engined plane that could take of vertically, fly at Mach 1.2 to the target, hover on target to drop 6000 kilos of ordnance from six underwing pylons and an internal weapons bay, and return to base. It's rugged and simple design made it one of the most durable Acturan aircraft around, able to fly while missing nearly half of its parts. This was in part from the shape of the fuselage, which contributed to help lift the airplane, and an extremely robust fly-by-wire system. It was also nicknamed 'the can opener" for its three barreled 45mm rotary autocannon.

Five wings of twelve bombers were readied, each loaded with 30 1000 kilo bombs. Ten wings of the ground attack planes were loaded with a combination of cluster bombs and anti-tank missiles. Five wings of the heavy fighters were loaded a mix of long and medium range missiles. Fifteen-wings of light fighters were armed with a mix of medium and short range missiles.

Hour after tense hour passed. Suddenly, one radar station among dozens detected inbounds. The planes were in the air within minutes. In an oddity, the fighters formed up in a large arrowhead formation made up sixty squadrons arranged in diamond formations with the heavy F-21 Dragons leading the charge. Given that the Acturans were not idiots, the formation only looked like an arrow when viewed from above with various squadrons at different heights.

"Hey Fatass, you ready?" asked Raven

"Yes sir," the new pilot said, "Did you hear that the big upgrade pack for the F-23 is going to include a LAI. Now this might be just me, but I think that would be the shit."

"It sure would. It would be like having an extra pair of eyes watching things around while you do the flying and it simplifies all the electronics. If it can be mass produced, I'd think that it would end up being cheaper," said Smiley.

The planes rushed onward, screaming in at high supersonic speeds. Aerial mages came up to fight them in a battle for the skies like the knights of old. Smiley grinned as a missile locked on to a mage. He released the weapon and it rocketed away before it exploded in a cloud of oily smoke and a brief flash of light. He remained in formation with the other planes as they launched their lances of smoke and fire against the glowing lances of magical death spat out by the mages.

"Break!"

At once, every Acturan pilot broke off on their own path. The took a wide curving path as mages took pinpoint turns to pursue. Their advantage in speed held. This was a world far beyond the speed of sound itself. A mage appeared out of nowhere in a blur of movement. The mage was wielding a melee weapon, a longsword. Smiley saw this through the optics of his helmet. Another flash and he saw a Dragon fly to the ground with a wing sliced entirely off. It spun out of control in the distance. Smiley pulled hard on both sticks, using both thrust vectoring and control surfaces to bring the airplane around. Positive gee forces slammed him into his seat. His vision began to turn grey and the world dissolved into him, his heartbeat, and the speck of the enemy highlighted in the green triangle.

"I just need to pull my nose up a little bit more to get that fucker," thought Smiley.

The reticule burned a deep red and he pressed the firing stud to send off a medium range Griffon missile. He now had two left along with twelve Mortals.

"Griffon off!" he called as the weapon streaked out like a comet.

A streak of light slammed into the missile. A blur of motion had him come to see that mage he had fired upon had escaped unscathed.

"Oh God in heaven, please have mercy on me, your poor, suffering servant," muttered Smiley as he rolled his plane toward the mage and turned on the afterburners. The mage turned and kept on his tail. He angled the nose down; nothing could beat a Lancer in a powered dive, right? He cursed the lack of rear visibility and relied looked toward the radar on the display panel. The mage was on his six and gaining.

"I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die."

He cut the speed, pulling into a stall. He worked both joysticks to slide across the air, slam on the engine, and roll into his attacker's path, but there was no mage. Smiley quickly checked the radar, but could find no mage. He rolled the plane too look below him. He could not see the mage. He performed half a barrel roll and began to climb to set up for an high speed pass, where he would have an advantage. There was a tapping on cockpit and he looked to see the mage flying right next to his plane above the canopy.

"She's just toying with me," realized Smiley

She, for the mage was woman (as many of the TSAB mages were for reasons unknown to him), flew just ahead of him, coming out of the blind spot in the cockpit's vision. Immediately, Smiley pulled the plane down into a spiral dive. He was losing altitude at a dangerously fast rate and slowed down his speed to watch the mage overshoot. Finally, there was an opening. He pulled her into the gunsight.

"Goodbye," he thought as he depressed the firing stud for the cannons.

The nose of the plane erupted in fire from the muzzle flashes. He could track the tracers as they came to the path of the mage. His smile turned to shock as a shield of magic came up to stop the rounds. She slowed to try and make him overshoot. Smiley broke into a roll, trying to bring his plane to bear against the tiny target of a mage. He began to feel cold sweat on his brow as he entered the most stressful maneuver of dogfighting, the rolling scissors.

"Little bit more and I can bring the guns to bear."

He pulled a little closer in the maneuver. The greying of his vision turned to full fledged tunnel vision and he fought against blacking out and losing control of his plane. There was another blur and the mage slipped away. He put the plane perpendicular to the ground and hit the engines in an example of post-stall maneuverability. The radar showed that the damn mage behind him. He pulled into level flight. The mage was behind him, excellent, he could use the Cobra. He pulled up into a 90 degree angle of attack and let the airflow take him back while the engines kept him aloft. He drifted backwards as the mage rushed ahead. Smiley pulled the plane back down and pulled the trigger. This time, the attack was too sudden and quick for any shield to be put up and a mage, probably an ace, died under a barrage of explosive shells. The maneuver was more of an airshow trick than a combat maneuver, but it was useful under specific circumstances. Smiley released a sigh of relief. That would have ended in his death had the TSAB mage not been playing with him for part of it. That overconfidence had proven her to be her downfall. He was under no illusion of how easily he could have died.

"All Acturan forces, break and return to base. We cannot take them out for the bombers and attack planes," declared the leader of the mission.

"With all due respect: fuck you, sir. We can get in for a strike and blow them to hell," answered the leader of the group of Hornets.

Smiley hated to leave them behind, but orders were orders and he was running low on fuel. With a weary heart, he turned his plane back to base and began to supecruise.

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James "Big Dog" Rowley was a Hornet pilot. This was likely a suicide run, but they needed to halt the TSAB advance. He zoomed only fifty meters above the ground just over the speed of sound. It was a scary feeling when he only had four Mortals to protect himself. However, he had two Grand Slam air-to-ground missiles that could engage from 40 kilometers away and a bomb bay filled with twenty-four 250 kilogram bombs. Two green triangles settled over targets invisible at the distance. Bolts of magic began to hum through the air around him. One slammed into the wing of his plane, blowing a large hole in it. It was a testament to the airframe and robust fly-by-wire system that the plane kept going.

The triangles turned red and he loosed the missiles. Two tanks died, turned into so much scrap metal. He slowed to subsonic speeds as the line of Bureau forces came into his view. Big Dog pressed a button to open up the bay and pulled up hard while releasing the bombs. Guidance packages ensured the toss bombed weapons would find their mark. The world exploded as his plane shook and rattled from the proximity to the explosives. Around him, other Hornets flew around, making bombing runs and strafing the enemies. He brought the plane to a hover and opened up with the "can opener" on one of the APCs. The first few rounds impacted against the shield before breaking through and gutting the vehicle. He opened up on some infantry. They were ripped into so much meat.

"Get some! Get some! Die motherfucker, die!," he exuberantly said.

In his glee at the battle, he failed to notice a young red-haired girl in a frilly crimson dress and warhammer slamming into him. The canopy shattered as the hammer slammed into him. The impact of the great weapon cracked his ribs and punctured his left lung. Big Dog lost control of the massive airplane as it fell. Bones fractured with sickening cracks as he hit the ground.

Somehow he survived as the airplane burned around him. The burning fuel roasted his skin as he fumbled to release the harness. He pulled it off and dragged himself out of the plane. His hand was sliced open by jagged metal. Big Dog pulled himself from the wreckage. His stomach was hurting him as he crawled with fractured legs. He looked down at his stomach and saw a massive piece of metal embedded in his stomach. He wretched and vomited before crawling a further meter, growing weaker as his punctured lung filled with blood. He suddenly felt a visceral tear; Big Dog then looked back to see he had been dragging a meter of ropy intestine. He cried. He didn't want to die. He propped himself up to try and scoop his intestines back up. Suddenly, that red-haired girl was in front of him.

"Please, please, I don't want to die," he sobbed.

She smiled and brought the hammer down on his head, shattering bones and caving his skull. Gore dripped from the head of the hammer. It had been a quick and painless death. She flew off was an angel of death across the battlefield, a reaper of lives.

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Two days had elapsed since the massive airstrike, and the TSAB were advancing. No forces had been able to resist them and they had to or they would die. Private Howard Roberts sucked in a little of the tobacco smoke from his cigarette. He blew out the smoke. It may not have been healthy but it calmed his anxious nerves, and the TSAB forces were supposed to hit within the day. He had his rifle and gear. While the armor would not do much against the powerful magical attacks, the active camo would always be useful. This was his first foray into battle, having just finished boot camp and basic training. They had helped set up defenses from berms and foxholes to low reinforced concrete walls. He slept fitfully in a dirty foxhole like the men around him.

The next morning, he was roused by Sergeant-Major Holloway. Holloway was an unassuming, short man with light blonde hair, crystal blue eyes and round, steel rimmed glasses. He was all the most-liked guy of the battalion; everybody loved Holloway. You didn't lose your man card if you hugged Holloway (out of uniform, of course). Barroom brawls had started when someone had insulted Holloway and someone from the Battalion was in earshot.

"Hey Roberts, the enemy is going to arrive in the next few hours. Pass it down and wake up the you squadmates."

"Yes sir, Holloway."

"Good."

Roberts climbed out of his foxhole and pulled down the visor of the face enclosing helmet. He slung the rifle over his shoulder as he moved to rouse the other squadmates. He supposed that his NCOs were off doing something else for him to be chosen. He got more than a few profanities directed his way, but he responded in kind. As his squadmates were awake, he saw the platoon commander, the squad leaders, and the fireteam leaders return carrying bags of food. It wasn't just rations they had brought; it was an honest-to-god steaming hot meal. They had brought fried eggs over rice with a white gravy. How they had secured this was beyond him, but he was more than thankful as he dug into the meal after detaching the mouthpiece. Many were going to die, but they were going into hell on a full stomach.

They did a little PT in the early morning dew to loosen up their muscles before returning to their defensive positions. Rifleman were in the foxholes, machine gun teams and "tread fucker" missile teams behind low concrete walls. It was silent for a long, tense while. Then the artillery wailed to shell the TSAB positions. They'd even sent out a few volleys of rocket fire out. At the moment, there was little to do but wait as the thunder of distant artillery shook the ground.

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Brigadier General Shikinami ordered his forces forward. It appeared that the Acturan artillery could not traverse and elevate quickly enough against a moving target. Of course, Murphy reared his head as a barrage of Hailstorm rockets and specialist Hawkeye mortar rounds slammed into his forces.

"Damn it!" he swore as the submunition dispersing rockets and the heavy guided mortar rounds hit him. The Acturans were masters of artillery fire and had devised a wonderful doctrine to allow them to employ this artillery quickly and flexibly. Part of their basic training was even learning to call in and spot for artillery and air strikes. Perhaps it was phallic compensation, offered some deep corner of his mind.

He needed to advance before the artillery could rip him apart. He knew that a mistake had been made when artillery began to cut off his retreat. That was not to bad. He could still make the best of the situation and hit their defenses with the force of furious storm. His infantry was ridiculously more survivable than their Acturan counterparts due to barrier jackets and shields. His armor was decidedly less survivable, but altogether necessary due to the limited number of mages capable of taking on even an Earth tank, much less an Acturan T-70. These tanks and APCs had been pulled out of decades of storage and hadn't even received an update. The mechanized infantry weren't even riding in the APCs anymore, instead riding on top of them in tank desant; this was not without good reason as the Acturan infantry focused a disproportionate amount of fire on the APCs and let the tanks and artillery take care of his armor. The fucking armor of their fucking tanks made one-shotting a T-70 unlikely even if the thinnest armor was hit. These were ultimately tactical issues. His job was to manage at the strategic level. His soldiers knew their duty and would do it.

"Prep Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta Squadrons in the air and get me a squadron of recon drones. I need info on the location of their artillery so the air mages can attack it."

"Yes sir," replied one of his aids, a young boy, 2nd Lieutenant Graham. He began to enter info into one of their computers. It would take at least a few minutes to perform triangulation routines to locate using information on the trajectories Another aide gave the order to scramble the air units.

Another thought struck the general: "Why the hell don't we have artillery? Mages can't always fly and the advantages of a ballistic indirect fire weapon would be immense. Maybe I've been around Colonel Yagami for way too long, but she's a good girl and a damn good officer. Perhaps I should start dating her and getting to know her."

"Sir, drones discovered repositioning artillery tanks before being destroyed by anti-aircraft fire. Orbital recon has discovered the position of a few static batteries. Air mages are updated on this info. They request permission to engage."

"Permission granted."

Like unholy birds of war, the mages flew towards their targets. They had been informed of the presence of AA units. They were close enough to the muzzle flashes of the big guns. They first went after the repositioning mobile artillery. From concealed positions, a wall of fire and smoke trails erupted. The SPAAM-18 was the sole SAM vehicle of the Acturan military. They worked in close coordination with the MANPADS portable SAM teams. Each vehicle mounted a search and targeting radar capable of tracking up to 72 targets at once. The self-propelled anti-aircraft missile vehicles only carried four Garbageman missiles itself, although each each missile carried a further six missiles. The fire control computers used LAI to determine and modify the paths of the missiles to prevent fracticide and ensure destruction.

15 Garbageman missiles had been launched at the edge of their minimum range. 144 Little Boy portable SAM missiles were fired, easily within the processing abilities of the SPAAM-18s. The mages returned fire against the missiles destroying a little over half of them before they could engage. The outer frame of the Garbageman missiles broke apart and six missiles launched from each. 116 missiles fired, ripping apart the TSAB forces in a storm of continuous rod warheads and standard "canister-shell" warheads. Mages were bisected by the extending rings of death formed by continuous rod warheads and blown apart by a hail of phosphorous-coated tungsten bearings. Even after this onslaught, there were still mages remaining. The autocannons, both fixed and mobile opened up. At close ranges, they were vastly more effective than missiles, being able to direct a stream of HE-I shells into the enemies. The shells could not be shot down and easily ripped through shields. They died an inglorious death, butchered like cattle. Yet, it also had a perverse glory to it. Acturans whooped and cheered at their own handiwork.

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A few kilometer from the Acturan lines, Private Marona dismounted from the roof the APC. From here, she would have to slog over to the Acturans in full battle gear on foot. It would only be about a kilometers before she could finally engage them, fight them face to face rather than this organized slaughter. The hovertanks came ahead of them, to initiate an armored breakthrough. She and the other infantry continued at a slow jog. After continuing for a few meters, she felt some small movement beneath her feet.

"Hey guy-"

It was at that moment, the Acturan anti-personnel landmine activated. It briefly formed a sphere of magical force. It sliced off her right arm at the elbow and her left at the wrist before the explosive detonated. Within an enclosed space, the blast of an explosive experiences a near exponential increase in power. Private Marona had time to scream as blood sprayed out of her limbs before the mine exploded and she died near instantly, blown apart into something that should have comeout of a meatgrinder. The force field was destroyed with the mine, but the very air was sucked violently out of the lungs of nearby TSAB troops. Acturan engineers had linked each of the blast mines to a ring of five "bouncing mines." Explosive charges propelled the mines out of the ground before they exploded, sending out rings of metal from their continuous rod warheads. Soldiers were cut apart at the waist and the pieces of metal remained lethal for hundreds of meters out from the blast. It was by no means an instant death like the blast mines, but rather a few agonizing minutes as they scooped up their entrails and called for their mothers.

Hand-emplaced anti-vehicle mines were buried in stacks of two or three to add to their penetrative qualities. The shield was no defense as the mines were already inside the shield. Shaped charge blew turrets off tanks to fly meters into the air. Other methods of mine laying faster by far, but none could match the concealment, distribution, and lethality of a manually laid minefield. The remnants tried to sit it out under stationary omnidirectional shields

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General Shikinami watched his plan stop as his forces stopped. Hundreds of men and dozens of tanks had simple evaporated, ceased to exist, right before his eyes. TSAB forces had dealt with hidden explosive booby traps before, but never on a scale that could only be described as industrial. The artillery that had been firing on him since the start came directly on top of his forces. These included thermobaric 240mm mortar shells, each with a kill zone of 180m. The blast itself was only 40m in diameter, but that was not it's only method of killing. The overpressure and shock wave were quite lethal, collapsing lungs and rib cages, but these were not its most macabre cause of death. The explosion created a negative pressure as the explosion used up the air. The air would explosively fill up a void of approximately 32,000 cubic meters. Their shields and barrier jackets could not save them from having their lungs ripped from their throats. Luckily, the mortars fired extremely slowly, but his forces were getting ripped apart between a the anvil of the minefield and the hammer of the artillery.

Shikinami called into the headset, "Yagami, clear the area in front of our forces right now. This is a danger close situation."

"Acknowledged."

Hayate prepared to unleash a Hraesvelgr hundreds of kilometers from the battlefield and dozens of kilometers in the air. Five Belkan triangles appeared in the air. Glowing spheres of light formed before they were sent out to the battlefield. The yield had been dialed to devastate everything within 800 meters of point of impact. The glowing spheres flew out. It would be precious minutes before they impacted. Each "shot" as it were from the Hraesvelgr spell was composed of a very dense and stable sphere of magical energy surrounded by a more energetic and volatile shell. At a predetermined point, the shell would direct its force inward, imploding the dense sphere and causing it to exploded with incredible force. There was nothing fancy about it, but rather pure direct force. What would be an ultimate attack for others, Hayate would find difficult to scale the yield down to for parity.

xxxxxxxxx

Private Howard Roberts's world exploded into a light brighter than a thousand suns. It was too sudden to even put up his eyes to shield himself. The earth shook and rumbled, knocking him onto his ass and jostling him about. Had it not been for the anti-flash lenses of the visor, he would have become permanently blinded. The soldier managed to climb back up and undo the mouthpiece to puke when he was hit by a wave of dirt, dust, sticks, and rocks. It knocked him over and abraded exposed skin on his face until it was raw and bleeding. He bit back a cry and put the mouthpiece back on. It hurt so fucking much. Vision soon returned to him where he saw the ruins of the rolling hills between him and the enemy. He saw them and the guessed them to be about a kilometer away.

"Fuck this, I'm bugging out of here," said the green soldier as he moved to scramble out of the foxhole.

Corporal Leeroy backhanded the man.

"Get your horse-fucking ass back in that fucking foxhole right fucking now, soldier! Your soul might belong to God, but your faggot ass is mine! We are going to do our fucking job and hold the damn line from those cock-sucking TSAB pussies! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?" screamed the NCO.

"Sir, yes sir," said Howard.

"I can't fucking hear you! SHOW SOME FUCKING MOTIVATION, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

Private Roberts scrambled back into his foxhole and shouldered his rifle as he began to take potshots at the enemy infantry. The tanks fired volleys of HEAT ammunition at the enemy it tanks as it had proven more effective against the shields. While the HEAT shells of the tanks could take down a shield and then follow up with an APFDS to damage if not kill the tanks, every "tread fucker" could destroy the shield and land some heavy damage with their heavier tandem shaped charge warheads.

They then opened up with machine guns from heavy weapons teams, coaxial weapons, and pintle mounts. The MG-11 design was a proven design that had not changed much in just over a century of service; it fired 20 rounds of 7x57mm rounds every second. These bullets were even older than the guns that fired them, having been designed for ancient bolt-bolt action rifles now preserved only for the purpose of armed drill. This Acturan combat classic had been updated for new generation of warfare a caseless form. Through the weight of fire, they could easily get past a barrier jacket and kill a mage.

Their enemies began to put up glowing magic shields. These only attracted more fire; 30mm grenades and light and medium mortars were used against the directional shields, being able to drop a projectile behind or on top of the shield. Any other form of shield would merely serve to make them lose their mobility.

However, in spite of the losses they had inflicted they were outnumbered by roughly three to one in tanks and two to one in infantry. A breakthrough was inevitable and the survivability of TSAB infantry let them take hundreds of hits before going down in some cases. They weren't fighting stupid this time. They had quickly adapted and were having some groups send a hail of fire at the Acturans while others advanced under cover of shields.

Howard sighted a TSAB soldier, controlling his breathing as he lined up the rear aperture with the hooded post of the front sight. He set the selector to two-round burst and fired. The rate of fire was such that he didn't feel the recoil until after the burst had left the barrel. The rounds glanced off an invisible field. He fired again, and the TSAB soldier began to turn to bring his weapon to face him. Panicking, he flipped the selector to automatic fire and began to hose the soldier down in long bursts of lead. A bolt of magic zipped past his head. He could feel that searing, deadly heat even through the helmet. Finally, the bullets began to impact against the body armor of the enemy. He ducked as another bolt came by him. The private's fire was joined by his comrades. Someone threw a stick grenade and the grenadier dropped a 30mm HEDP grenade on him. Finally, the TSAB guy was dead. He let out a sigh of relief.

Roberts saw another TSAB soldier and fired off the last of his 60 round magazine. He then detached the magazine and put it into a pouch as he mindlessly put in another mag and chambered the first round. He remembered actions drilled into him until they were muscle memory so he could focus on more important things. Semi-auto at ranges of three-hundred meters or more, burst within two-hundred, and full-auto within fifty. "Every soldier a rifleman" was the unofficial motto of the Acturan military, and marksmanship was given a great deal of emphasis in training.

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"Hey, put on the music," yelled Captain Richard "Devil Dog" Wilson of the 101st AirCav, A Company, over the engines of the armed transport VTOL.

"Why, Sir?" asked one of the enlisted men.

"Back when we were hunting the guerrillas, we'd play some death metal as we were arriving. Scared the shit out of them."

The pilot up front pressed the button to start the track. The loudspeakers began to blast out the guttural growls, shredding guitars, punchy bass, and fast double bass drum beat of the music. As they approached the LZ, they launched smoke grenades, obscuring the transport VTOLS. The Attack VTOLs fired their 20mm rotary autocannons and let loose with the much heavier Hellhound laser-guided anti-tank missiles and 70mm rocket pods. The 101st were easily identified by the grinning white skulls painted onto their armor. They rappelled down from the VTOLs. The soldiers of the AirCav quickly hit the dirt with some providing suppressive fire as the others advanced. Tanks were blown to pieces and infantry were hit from behind. Their effect was mostly in the psychological factor of a shock assault by a group of near invisible enemies save for grinning white skulls and black rifles with long spike bayonets. Had the TSAB forces been able to concentrate on them, they would have died.

"566th Light, 831st Light, and 785th Heavy, disengage and regroup to support the 101st AirCav. Advance to Rally Points A and B marked on your maps."

"Throw down some smokes and frags, then begin to withdraw," ordered Corporal Leeroy.

The soldiers threw smoke and fragmentation grenades into the path of the advancing TSAB forces. They then brought up the map in the corner of their HUD. The two rally points were marked with big red dots. The Acturans began to slowly withdraw to support their comrades.

"Double time it!" shouted the lieutenant.

The men began to double time march. Even though they were not in any real formation, they managed to gain a cadence. To keep up morale, they put together a cadence call. After double timing for half an hour, they managed to regroup at the points. There was no rest for the weary, and they immediately began to advance to cover the flanks of the TSAB force. Roberts had fired so long it was almost mechanical as he jogged forward, pausing to cover another man, and jogged ahead in a bounding overwatch. They kept pushing them back and finally into the city. It was the first Acturan victory against TSAB forces.

The Acturan mages of this special detatchment, wearing their all khaki utilities sat in a bare room, focusing their magical energies into the cylindrical device that would magnify the effects of their spell. They finished.

"Activate MagiComm jammer," came an order over the intercom.

"Yes sir," answered one of the mages. He then brought up a display on the device. He pressed the screen and the device activated, glowing with violet rings.

"Admiral, you're not going to like this. We've lost communications with the forces around Arkaios."

* * *

**Organization of an Acturan Light Regiment**

_Regimental Command_

3 Command Groups

192 Enlisted, 34 Officers

_3 Infantry Battalions_

9 Companies

27 Platoons

81 Squads, 27 Command and Heavy Weapons Squads

852 Enlisted, 42 Officers

_1 Towed Artillery Battalion_

4 Companies

12 Batteries

3 Howitzer Batteries, 3 Heavy Mortar Batteries, 3 Medium Mortar Batteries, 3 Light Mortar Batteries

312 Enlisted, 18 Officers

_1 Anti-Aircraft Battalion_

4 Companies

6 Platoons and 6 Batteries

6 MANPADS Platoons, 3 Medium AA Gun Batteries, 3 Light AA Gun Batteries

294 Enlisted, 18 Officers

**Total**

1652 Enlisted, 112 Officers

* * *

Yeah, both sides are assholes beating the crap out of each other. That is entirely deliberate. One one side, you've got an asshole Soviet Union/ "Bannana Republic" analogue and an asshole UN/"The Federation" analogue.

I admit that I do go a bit overboard in the descriptions. Some of it is stylistic, emphasizing the dehumanizing nature of warfare and the other part is just me indulging in technology/gun porn.

* * *

Me on the subject of the battle in Chapter 4

Their battle plan was actually pretty sensible. They were going to send in armor the tanks would break the lines and the APCs were to begin clearing out the enemy. Foot slogging infantry was their to mop up anything left by the armored shock assault. However, they did not anticipate just how much the Acturans could bring to bear.

The magic shields would have been incredibly effective had they fought a foe with a similar magitek equipment, but the Acturans merely use magic to augment weapons similar to what is available today. Thus the magic geared TSAB equipment and doctrine has trouble against these types of things. The Acturans commander recognized what the TSAB forces were trying to do and sent out his tanks to turn the battle to the entrenched infantry. In order to assault a dug in enemy, you need massive qualitative or quantitative superiority. The APCs, though virtually defenseless, have weapons that blow a man apart with hits and have a truly ludicrous rate of fire but slow projectile speed. That sort of thing will pin down even the most hardened soldier.

The TSAB infantry begin to advance through razor wire, slowing them down considerably but this is not a problem when the enemy is supressed. The Acturans call down artillery which inflicts massive casualties but destroys most of the razor wire. The TSAB advance into a range where the slow projectile speed of their guns isn't as big of a deal and their qualitative equipment superiority allows them to storm the defenses. The Acturans withdraw to regroup because they have more local forces than the TSAB and they have a much smaller logistics train so they(the Acturans) can go at them again on their own terms rather than those dictated by the TSAB.

* * *

Me on the sides of the conflict

The DRA is essentially the Soviet Union without the communism. They, however, are fascist, aggressive, stubborn, imperialistic dicks. They actually are pretty good rulers. The average system has access to a fairly large amount of publicly funded institutions, schooling in particular. They also have a single flat tax that everyone pays the same percentage of their income (it also helps simplify things when you run a multi-planetary nation). However the freedoms of the citizen are limited. The press is not free, there is no free speech, military service is mandatory for all physically able citizens. However, they offer socialized healthcare that, while rationed is available and gives decent treatment. They have police on the streets enforcing curfews but the police are understanding for the most part if someone makes a mistake and this does actually cut down on crime. They however do not particularly care about enemy civilian casualties or PR (they run the media).

The TSAB is essentially the UN but larger, more ponderous, and dickish. They offer many freedoms to citizens. However, they are often meddlers in others' affairs, seeing themselves as essentially the multiverse police. This is partly because if they have allies that are doing economically well, this also strengthens and improves their economy. Furthermore, their bureaucracy is ponderous and fairly obstructive. However, they have a free press and free market economy. The average citizen has a fairly leisurely life. Military service is entirely voluntary. They often impose their own culture on anyone wishing to become a TSAB administrated world. Non mages are often discriminated against by mages who make up the majority of the populace. However, their armed forces are often overworked as they are a combination of a military and a police force rolled into one. Often corrupt politicians form a ruling council for the TSAB and they are not only slow to act but often waste money on pet projects. Many people's attitude toward the TSAB is "overpaid, underperforming, and over here."

Under any normal circumstance, the DRA would be the bad guys. They also attacked the TSAB first but got their asses handed to them by the space forces. However, they are receiving sympathetic portrayal and the average guy is not some evil strawman political, just another guy like his TSAB counterpart except that he grew up in Acturus.

* * *

The T70A3 Tank and the GCR-19 Assault Rifle

T-70A3

Dimensions  
Weight: 50 metric tons unloaded  
Height: 2.25 meters (2.45 with radome)  
Width: 3.5 meters  
Length: 10 meters

Crew: 3 (Commander, Driver, Gunner)

Protection  
Turret: 600mm-500mm=12000mm-10000mm RHA equivalent  
Hull: 550-100mm=110000-4000mm RHA equivalent  
Additional: Can mount an APS-3 Flare active protection system and a J-11 jamming system

Armaments  
Primary: 127mm smoothbore Electrothermal-Chemical Combustion Light Fluid Gun w/90 rounds of ammo stored in three separate compartments on the rear of the turret  
Coaxial: MG-11 7x57mm caseless machine gun w/3000 rounds of ammo  
Pintle: MG-11 7x57mm caseless machine gun w/ 2000 rounds of ammo

Mobility  
Powerplant: 1800 hp diesel engine  
Fuel Capacity: 1200 liter internal tank  
Range: 600 km on roads  
Suspension: Torsion Bar  
Max Speed: 70 km/hr  
Offroad Speed: 35 km/hr

The T-70A3 is the latest of the Acturan tanks. It's armor thickness has been massively increased using the magical processes used in the A2 that allow multiple layers of armor to occupy the same space to maximize the armor in a given area. The magical process also causes the armor to weigh less than it should for its volume and density. Its magic enhanced gun sight is accurate out to 14000m even while moving offroad. The 127mm gun is an excellent weapon to begin with and magic used in all Acturan guns has enhanced it to be even more effective. The barrel is self-repairing, all but eliminating barrel wear and can adjust itself by miniscule amounts to further improve the accuracy of the high velocity gun. Ammunition comes in APFDS, HEAT, HE, and Canister varieties. It's low profile allows it to more easily find cover, but makes it more limited in the hull down positions it can assume. However, the slightly redesigned turret of the A2 and A3 rectifies this problem somewhat. The v-shaped hull makes it even harder for mines to destroy the tank, turning catastrophic kills into mobility kills. The powerful engine makes it one of the fastest tracked tanks around, and the clattering, grinding sound of treads with the roar of its diesel engine has been known to rout less disciplined forces without a shot being fired.

Author's Commentary: The T70 is an interesting mix of both NATO style and Soviet style tanks with a few newer AFV design features. I'd personally say that is is quite similar to the Ukrainian T-84. The turret design is a combination of the Merkava and the T-80. The reason it carries so much ammo is because it stores the hydrogen/oxygen propellant slurry seperately from the shells and storing it (the slurry) does not take up very much space.

GCR-19

Length: 950mm standard, 1100mm DMR, 850mm carbine (600mm w/stock folded)  
Barrel Length: 450mm for standard, 550mm marksman, 350mm carbine  
Rifling Rate: 1 twist in 300mm  
Weight (Unloaded): 3.5kg standard, 4kg DMR, 3kg carbine  
Ammunition: 7x40mm telescoped caseless ammunition  
Operation: Short-stroke gas piston  
Firing Modes: Single, 2 round burst, Full Auto  
Capacity: 60 rounds in helical magazine  
Max Effective Range: 450m standard, 600m marksman rifle, 350m carbine  
Cyclic Rate of Fire: 720 rpm automatic, 1440 rpm burst  
Muzzle Velocity: 800 m/s for standard, 860 m/s for marksman rifle, 760 m/s for carbine  
Sights: Rear aperture sight adjustable to 500m in 50m increments and hooded front post sight w/ tritium inserts for low light shooting for standard, 5x telescopic sight with Mil-dot reticle and backup iron sights for DMR, Rear aperture sight adjustable to 400m in 50m increments and hooded front post sight w/tritium inserts for low light shooting for carbine

The GCR-19 (GCR standing for General Combat Rifle) is the standard rifle used by the Acturan army. Unusually, it mounts a high capacity helical magazine as standard. This choice caused some feeding issues with the rifle. However, these have been mostly solved. The short-stroke gas piston gives the gun a high rate of fire and the simple design grants it reliability in all battlefield conditions. The reliability cones from how the piston has enough force simply ignore things like dirt insides the chamber and from magic that self repairs components, all but eliminating wear. The short hard push of the action makes it somewhat difficult to control in fully automatic fire, a problem more pronounced on the carbine and less pronounced on the DMR. This reliability comes at the cost of some accuracy, something that is not as big a deal given the self repairing barrel, making the standard barrel extremely accurate, the action though has rather looser chamber tolerances. It comes in standard, DMR, and carbine versions. The DMR version has a somewhat thicker barrel than standard and can function as a light automatic weapon in a pinch; it is issued at the squad level. The carbine is issued to people who do are not serving in the front line or requiring a more compact weapon, such vehicle crews and special forces.

Author's Commentary: The GCR-19 is similar to the AK series of weapons and the Bizon submachine gun in look. I would think that in the future, they would be using caseless weapons. This has the side effect of eliminating the extraction process altogether which increases the rate of fire.

* * *

Songs Referenced in Chapter Titles

Chapter 1- Fire in the Sky by Kristopher Klover

Chapter 2- The Longest Day by Iron Maiden

Chapter 3- Birds of War by Sabaton

Chapter 4- Sixpounder by Children of Bodom

Chapter 5- Price of a Mile by Sabaton

Chapter 6- Soldiers by Drowning Pool

Chapter 7- Uprising by Sabaton


	8. Dies Irae

One of the problems that my story had earlier was its depiction of TSAB shields. Let's just chalk those early things up to incompetence and underestimating their enemy. I apologize. I'll establish a quick scale of firepower required to kill a TSAB soldier (assume that the average soldier is a D-Rank mage): 30-40 rounds of 7x40mm fire, 10-18 rounds of 7x57mm fire, 30mm grenade within 1 meter, Hand grenade within 3 meters, 5-8 rounds of 20mm cannon fire, 1-3 rounds of 45mm cannon fire, anything above that is instant death (this includes things such as Mortal air to air missiles or Garbageman surface to air missiles). This chapter has had some weird format issues. I'll try to fix them ASAP.

Chapter 8

Dies Irae

"Seeing that we cannot contact Brigadier General Shikinami, you are now placed in charge of our ground forces, Colonel Yagami. You are now promoted to the position of Brigadier General."

"Yes sir."

"Your primary objective at the moment is to recover General Shikinami's force. Is this understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Excellent. Carry out the orders of the day."

"Aye sir."

Major Arthas Smith watched his troops exchange some fire from their positions into the cratered buildings across the street sometimes. Bullets kicked up dust in the area. His understrength company controlled an entire block of apartment buildings. A grenades smashed through the window of the apartment and he rushed to hurl it out of the building. It exploded in midair. His barrier jacket absorbed the fragments. Smith then picked up his Device to fire out a long beam of mana across the street in the general direction of the grenade.

"Fire you sons-a-bitches!" called the officer. Platoon commanders shouted the orders down to NCO's who shouted it to the troops. The entire building was slammed with a withering hail of fire. Fist sized holes were punched in the bricks, forming glassy craters and parts of building were set alight by the heat. Someone sent another beam through the building and they were rewarded with a scream as a burning Acturan ran out, only to be blown apart into a pink mist by the TSAB weapons.

One of the windows downstairs was shattered before the remaining shards of glass were blown out by a grenade. He hear his men screaming. He heard more screaming as machine gun fire pierced the wall and hit his men. He sent out another piercing beam. He couldn't tell if it even hit. If only their weapons had the penetration that bullets had, able to blow through a wall to hit the guy behind it. Arthas had lost more than a few good men that way.

Suddenly a half dozen grenades were thrown into the street. The Major began to shout to take cover, but they merely emitted a grey smoke. The Acturans were definitely retreating.

"A Platoon, suppressive fire. B Platoon advance and press the initiative. We need to make disrupt their movements."

A hail of bolts flew into the smoke from windows and loopholes blasted into the walls. As the bolts flew off into the grey, nearly sixty good men and women ran into the wall of smoke as the suppressive fire ceased out of fear of hitting their own troops. The Acturans had put in some kind of magical additive to the mix, preventing them from using magic to see through the smokescreen. His troops returned from the now fading smoke unharmed. That was good.

He heard a whistling sound.

"Get down!" he yelled. He would have said more had the artillery rounds not impacted. It never ceased to amaze him how movies got the effects of explosions all wrong. It wasn't some big, apocalyptic blast of flames and billowing smoke for the most part. There was usually just a bright flash and deafening sound as a plume of dust and debris was blown into the air. The actually shelling was quick, but the dust and debris took a while to settle. It was almost a good thing that the explosives kicked up all the dust; it concealed the horrifically mutilated bodies.

"Platoon leaders, get everyone the fuck out of the building. Look for an area previously shelled and get everyone to move their asses over there if they want to live!"

"Yes sir!" returned the leaders.

A howitzer round slammed into the eastern part of the building, collapsing a quarter of the structure. People were yelling things around him but so powerful was the explosion that he was deafened. He ran down the stairs and out to the street with his soldiers. Major Arthas began to hear something, but it was the unpleasant zipping noise of bullets. Those fucking Acturans had begun firing upon them.

"Shields on the left flank!" yelled the company commander and the chain of command carried down the orders. Sure enough, a wall of round shields sprung up. He didn't give a flying fuck if they revealed his position, the benefit in protection was more than worth it. A mortar round slammed overhead. One of his men was eviscerated by the blast and fell screaming and leaking entrails. Shrapnel had carved that man up more thoroughly than a butcher's knife. Another man had his leg blown off by the mortar round and fell, clutching the bleeding stump.

"Damn them!" he thought, "Why must they use such terrible weapons? Are they so warlike that they've got a boner for murder? We banned this shit for a reason. Fuck them and all they stand for!"

He saw a building missing two walls and part of a roof.

"There! Building missing two walls at 8 o' clock! Haul ass!"

The line of troops situated themselves in the block of shelled out buildings. Arthas stood up and saw the devastation wrought by the very king of the battlefield. Entire buildings were shattered into showers of wood, metal, and masonry by hits from the heavy mortar rounds. Howitzer rounds slammed into buildings, turning them to rubble as walls and ceilings were blown apart. Lighter mortar rounds dropped on top of buildings, performing annihilation by shear volume of fire. Rockets streaked in the sky before dispersing bomblets that devastated multiple blocks under a rain of small explosives. Both the power and awe commanded by the weapons and their concussive effects left the TSAB company commander speechless. Out of the dust flew a piece of rebar to strike him upon the back of the head. Had he not had his barrier jacket and been wearing helmet, his skull would have nearly exploded in a manner reminiscent of a sledgehammer to a watermelon. However, he was merely knocked unconscious by the piece of flying metal.

xxxxxxxxx

Sergeant Hennessey walked with his squad. They were advancing under combined arms. The tanks and IFV's were about a dozen meters in front of them. The bass growl of diesel engines made him feel pumped up for the fight. He looked to the blasted urban landscape. There was still one building standing. Hennessey saw one antlike man climb up the building and affix the TSAB colors. They flew proudly.

"Anyone here have a flag?" asked one of the tank commanders.

"Yes sir," called one of the men who then produced a flag. The infantry gathered around to affix an improvised flagpole to carry the Acturan colors of a golden eight-pointed star over a horizontal red stripe on a green background into battle. That blue flag flying defiantly in the bombed out ruins was an affront to them; it was now personal. The colors of neither the Acturans, nor the TSAB would shy from cold, bloody war. The TSAB eagle over a white wireframe globe surrounded by a green laurel on a blue background still flew proud against the wind.

The Lieutenant walked over to the tank and pointed over to the flag. She then ran back and gave a thumbs up before covering her ears. The tank gun boomed and sent out a round at the TSAB flag. The soldiers looked up to watch the flagpole get blown off the building. A TSAB soldier came back and raised their flag once more. Their colors would not run.

Orders to advance came and the bass growl turned into a roar. It filled him with more courage than the liquid bravery of hard liquor. War was here. The IFV riding troops had dismounted and were advancing with the non-mechanized infantry. It had been stressful, but they had contained the TSAB forces.

xxxxxxxxx

"Shit. I feel like a just got clubbed in the back of the head. What the fuck was that?" thought Major Arthas.

"You're back Major. Hey, get the man a canteen for fuck's sake!" hollered one of his men.

He opened his eyes to have a canteen thrust into his face. He grasped at it and poured a little water down parched and chapped lips. It was hell of a lot better than nothing. However, water was going to be real concern soon enough.

"Thanks guys," said the major as he sat up. His head throbbed with pain. "Sitrep?"

"We've got 42 guys left. However a tank and APC joined us. The tank is hull down in that pile of rubble over there and we've got the APC behind a wall."

Major Arthas Smith looked out his troops, covered in a layer of grimy dust, prone or crouched behind barriers. It quite nearly the antithesis of mage warfare. This simply wasn't how warfare was supposed to be conducted, but they were doing it anyway, adapting and overcoming. They were soldiers of the Time-Space Administration Bureau, and they would win.

xxxxxxxxx

The Acturans advanced, boots and treads crunching on rubble. Suddenly, several men went down from a volley of bolts of bright blue mana. The entire group halted for a moment as the IFV's riddled the buildings with machine gun fire and 30mm grenades from their automatic grenade launchers. A tank raked its coaxial machine gun across the machine gun. Several grenadiers launched their own 30mm grenades through the windows. Infantry riddled the building with rifle fire. The entire face of the building dissolved under a haze of smoke and powdery dust from the impacts. One of the tanks traversed and elevated its gun to fire a high explosive shell. There was no sound aside from the panting of men, the cries of the wounded, and the growl of engines. As the dust cleared, the wall of the shelled out building was gone entirely.

"We've been assigned to clear that building," called Lieutenant Rakas, Hennessey's platoon commander.

"Heavy weapons teams stay back. You three, come with me, first, second, and third squads."

She raised her service pistol.

"Affix... Bayonets!"

In a quick, four-part motion, the soldiers affixed the twenty centimeter spikes of hardened steel onto the bayonet lugs of their rifles.

"Rod, you and Mat provides some covering fire as we enter. On my mark, go."

Every man and woman of the platoon was ready. They were all crouched behind a wall of rubble.

"Mark!"

They ran ahead in a zigzagging pattern while Rod and Mat hit the dirt as they began to provide covering fire. The bullets kicked up more sprays of masonry as they hit the building. The gunner was firing in short controlled bursts with occasional pauses to cool. There was no wild spraying and praying from the disciplined troops.

Hennessey shouldered the rifle as he came into the building. This was almost as bad as clearing out the cities of terrorists. Any misstep and he could get blown to pieces. Just one small, nearly invisible tripwire and he would... it was better not to worry. He came with his squad to one holed door. This room had been a living room before being gutted by weapons fire. Now, it was ruined and wrecked.

"Art, you hear anything?" asked Hennessey over the comlink.

"I hear some quiet Mid-Childan behind the door. Too fast and too quiet for me to understand," answered the corporal.

"Shit."

The squad was crouched and hugging cover, making themselves difficult to spot and find in the building.

"Draken, back up and drop a grenade through that door. Orek, take point. Jenkins you hold up the rear."

Draken jogged back eight meters as his squadmates covered him with their weapons. He raised the rifle, flipped up the grenade sight, and took aim.

"Fire in the hole."

He fired the round into room. It had just cleared the safe distance when it detonated inside the room. Orek quickly blasted the hinges with rifle fire before kicking in the door. He entered the room. He brought the rifle up to the left and quickly swept to the right as he moved through the room. This had likely been a bedroom and remained relatively untouched. There some blue wallpaper over a wooden floor. There was an empty bookshelf in the corner of the room.

"One dead hostile!" called Luke.

"Go! We can't lose momentum. Hit 'em hard and fast, like you'd bone a girl."

Orek ran ahead and checked whether the door was locked as the rest of the squad came in, finding firing positions outside of the fatal tunnel of the doorway that would let them pour the lead into the area.

"G-"

Hennessey's order was interrupted by a silvery blade slicing through the hinges of the door. Time seemed to slow as the door was kicked in,

"Fire at will," shouted Hennessey.

The rest of the room seemed to evaporate as he focused onto the door. He didn't really bother to use the sights as he flicked the selector to full auto. The others poured bullet after bullet into the area. In just over a second, the air was filled with over a hundred bullets. They didn't stop firing even after the mage hit the ground with a greater resemblance to swiss cheese than a human. He spasmed as blood poured out from his many bullet wounds. Hennessey rolled the man face up and pointed the muzzle at his face. The mage was still alive. The face evaporated in a burst of noise and light.

"Let's just keep on going. Y'all ready," said a shakened Hennessey.

"Yes, Sarge. Let's do this," answered Orek.

Orek went in first, quickly getting through the doorway and immediately hugging the wall.

"All clear in the bathroom," said Orek before he returned to the squad. They moved out back to the living room. Orek circled around the edge of the hallway. He came about two meters from the corner and walked around from there, rifle at the ready. There were other gunshots from various points in the building. They were progressing in taking the building. A mage suddenly snapped out from the end of the corner. The bolts passed by Orek's helmet, partially melting the material as it passed. He quickly rounded the next corner and tossed a grenade down the hall. It came up short and the mage was unharmed. Hennessey came to the other corner. Bolts flew through the hallway.

"Jenkins, Draken, get behind that pile of rubble when Orek and I start firing. Orek, with me on three."

Orek nodded and readied his weapon, pulling it up near him, so he could quickly snap shots at the enemy.

"One, two, three, mark!"

The two men quickly turned off the corner to begin firing short controlled bursts of fully automatic fire. The 7mm pieces of lead tore up the white painted walls. The bolts began to slow as the TSAB mage was sent scurrying for cover. Hennessey's gun let loose a stream of green tracers as it went empty.

"Reloading! Jenkins, Orek, keep him pinned. Draken, drop a grenade on his ass."

He quickly turned behind the walls and switched out the magazine for another before chambering in another round. Jenkins had set up the bipod and begun firing it as a light support weapon. Draken stuffed another grenade in the chamber of his underbarrel launcher. Orek popped back behind cover as Draken let loose the grenade. It exploded and filled the hallway with rolling cloud of grey dust.

'Get you asses moving! Art, take your fireteam up ahead first." shouted Hennessey.

Art took Draken, Foster, and El'Johnson with him up ahead. They met the visceral site of the wounded TSAB soldier clutching at the stump of his lead, trying to stem the bleeding. Blood ran through this pitiful attempt of saving himself. Art gazed at the man for a moment before unsheathing his combat knife to stab the wounded soldier in the heart, euthanizing him.

"Clear, Sarge," called back Art.

Hennessey followed up with Jenkins and Orek. Art's fireteam had taken up firing postions in the hallway. They came to a starewell, scarred with bullets. They heard footsteps and readied guns. The door opened to reveal another Acturan.

"Hey, second floor is cleared. You guys need help?"

"Sure would be handy. We killed three of them Bureau bastards down here," said Hennessey.

"The other guys cleared out the rest of the first floor, but we've got heavy resistance on the third."

"Alright, let's get going. Hennessey cringed slightly as he heard an explosion upstairs.

The nine men ran up the flights of stairs to the third floor of the building. Lieutenant Rakas was hiding behind a barricade that had been made. A few bolts of mana flew over head as she popped up from behind cover to let loose a few pistol shots from her big, flat sided service pistol.

Foster pulled out a grenade and looked toward the platoon commander with an expression of askance. Rakas nodded as she pulled her rifle over a desk to fire off a few short, two round bursts. Foster pulled the pin on the stick grenades and yelled, "Fire in the hole!" before throwing it. Everyone hit the dirt. A few seconds later the grenade exploded, sending out a wave of dust and fragments. All the Acturan troops along the line took the opportunity to start opening up with weapons fire into the side of the building with the TSAB troops.

"LT, what's the situation?" asked Hennessey as he sat down behind the barricade while his men took up firing positions.

"They've got at least a dozen guys over there. We've been at this for a while. They killed six of our guys, but we got some of them. We control about half of the third floor. Spread up and down the line. We're going to assault them soon."

A few bolts of mana zipped through the air to crater and set fire to parts of the wall behind them.

"Smokes!" yelled LT.

The platoon sent out a barrage of smoke grenades, both hand and launched by grenadiers.

"Frags!"

The barrage of fragmentation grenades came next, exploding and kicking up more dust and smoke.

"Charge!"

The lieutenant grabbed her rifle as the men and women around her did and began quickly make their way into the next set of rooms. Hennessey saw a mage begin to raise the staff and quickly fired a two round burst. It hit, but was deflected by the shield. He switched the selector to auto as he fired a burst into the mage until he finally died. This entire exchange took seconds. The other two mages were silenced with gunfire. There was no speaking as they knew exactly how to perform their duties.

"Nade!" called Flynn as he launched a 30mm grenade through the door to the next room.

The door was blown open by the blast inside the room. Hennessey was the first in and he quickly dispatched the enemies in the room. The door was kicked open and a mage came in. He began to fire, but his magazine ran dry. The mage was coming through the door. Time seemed as he took ran ahead to thrust the bayonet at the mage. The man blocked his stroke and attacked with a blow from the butt of the staff. Hennessey retaliated with a buttstroke, slamming the steel buttplate of the rifle into the mage's face. The man went down and the sergeant stabbed him with the spike of the bayonet again and again and again. He hurled a grenade into the next room with a warning cry. There was no time to think about what he'd done, merely time to suppress his emotions and carry on fighting with mechanical efficiency.

The lieutenant came up to him and asked, "Hennessey, you alright?"

"I think I cracked a rib, but I'll carry on."

"Good, we'll get you to a medic as soon as possible. Keep going and take it a bit easier; I don't want to loose one of my best squad leaders."

The two continued on into the next room. It was rather nondescript. They quickly hugged the wall, staying out of the lethal tunnel of the door. Foster moved to open the door and as soon as he opened the door, he was met with a storm of bolts. They ripped him apart, blowing off his arms and destroying his chest. His leg was turned into so much meat and red mist.

Immediately, the Acturan soldiers threw half a dozen grenades into the room. They exploded and the soldiers ran in to find the enemies ripped apart by the explosives and shrapnel. Hennessey heard a squelching noise as he walked into the room. He looked down and found himself stepping on the guts of some poor son-of-a-bitch. The sheer absurdity of the situation caused him to break out into howling laughter even as he stopped when it began to hurt his cracked ribs. He began to sob now that it was over. Foster was dead. Foster was dead. He couldn't quite process it. Foster, one of his best buddies was dead, ripped apart by the enemy's weapons into something barely recognizable as human. Art grabbed the corpse of his squadmate and cradled it in his arms. They backtracked to the hallway with their barricade to find the others returning. Some did sooner than others. All were dragging the corpses of their comrades. The platoon reduced even further, returned to the waiting allies. They began to move, boots and treads crunching on rubble.

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Marcus Ramius was the captain of the RAS _Hunter_, an Acturan frigate. This was a refit of the standard design with more powerful reactors and battlescreen projectors. She and many other ships in the Acturan Space Force were out commerce raiding to disrupt the flow of TSAB supplies.

Marcus stroked his brushy brown beard as he looked at the display. They were running silent, engines off and using only passive sensors. Anyone with sensors worth a damn would recognize that a ship was there, but it would be difficult to figure out what kind of ship it was. They were almost at the right location. He turned to the helmsman and ordered him to drop out of the hyper-band to realspace. They began to decelerate the ship to a speed of 3000 meters per second

There was no real shift aside from a temporary blinding of sensors as the dimensional bubble protected the ship from the danger in the shifts. They began to decelerate the ship. Everyone within about an AU would notice the arrival of another ship. This was nothing out of the ordinary for ships to drop out of FTL travel.

"Running sensor scans. Transponder indicates that the ships in location. The three TSAB merchant marine ships are 76 degrees right at 11000 kilometers with a delta altitude of negative 3000 kilometers. We have acquired the targets on the passive sensors."

"All crew to battlestations," ordered the captain.

A loud klaxon blared through the ship and the crew moved to strap themselves into acceleration couches on their various stations. The covers on missile tube flipped open and the turrets moved to track the ship. There was no way for the TSAB to tell that they were a warship given the distance. Their transponder was feeding false info to the TSAB ship.

"Turn the ship away from them and roll towards them. Then ping them with active sensors, raise the colors, and fire."

The massive plasma engines on the ship fired to set them on a course away from the TSAB ships and angle the broadside of their ship to the. This was to give their turrets a better angle to the TSAB ship. The active sensor then pinged the TSAB ships. This an immediate cause for concernThe ship then stopped giving false signals to the TSAB ship and revealed it as an Acturan warship. This was so that the attack did not violate the conventions of space warfare. A ship was required to reveal its origin before firing. That loophole in the agreement had been put there on purpose because everyone engaged in commerce raiding during war. The coilgun turrets traversed to put a slight bit of lead on their targets. They opened fire, loosing an amount of electromagnetic energy noticeable to anyone paying attention. The TSAB ships had less than a second to respond to this attack. The ships were holed through by the coilgun slugs. They were leaking massive amounts of atmosphere quickly.

"Confirmed critical damage on enemies. They're bleeding air and drifting off," called one of the men on the bridge.

"Excellent. Shift to the hyper band. Let's get back to base."

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"We've received many reports of our soldiers having to empty entire magazines to kill a single TSAB soldier. This. Is. A. Problem. Our ammo expenditure is through the roof," stated the government official dressed in his black suit to the scientists of the Weapons R&D team.

"We can do something. My immediate solution would be a stopgap measure of a 7x57mm battle rifle like the old GCR-16. With that, we can then work on a third stage. I think that a man portable coilgun would be the best solution. This is also entirely doable; with magic we can make dirt cheap superconductors and efficient miniaturized generators of fuel cells. However, for that the biggest problem is recoil. For the recoil produced by level of power you would need, the infantryman needs some sort of powered armor to physically deal with it. Now with regards to powered armor, we can solve the power source problem that they have always had with the dirt cheap superconductors I mentioned earlier. Powered armor can be armored to resist their mana bolts," commented the representative of R&D team.

"Good. You have 100,000 Ropis and 3 months to get out a 7x57mm battle rifle. We hope to see it in service in the next six months. You will receive a list of desired features within a week," said the government official.

The two men left the room. It was time for a combat evolution that would shape ground wars for years to come. It was off to the drawing boards.

The R&D team representative stood in front of the rest of the team later that day as they began a preliminary plan on the design.

"I think we should use a design that the infantrymen are already familiar with. I think it should be ergonomically similar to the GCR-19," said one designer.

"Magazine capacity will be a problem. Drum magazines , while less engineered than helical magazines put more stress on the gun and can even fall out. The two mounting locations on the long helical magazine distribute the weight. We're going to need a double stacked box mag. My ideal mag capacity would be 30-40 rounds," said one engineer.

"We'd also need to strengthen the gas system among other things for the higher pressure rounds," commented another.

"What about using a box magazine mounted similarly to the regular helical magazine, but the rounds are stored perpendicular to the magwell and a turntable arrangement to orient the rounds to the proper position?" offered another member of the team.

"That would jam and likely be unreliable. Plus it doesn't make a good grip like the helical magazine. I propose a casket magazine."

"We'd have to heavily modify the magwell and instead of double feeds, you could have quadruple feeds. Now that would be a real bitch to clear."

"I think it should mount a side-folding bayonet. That way, the troops don't need to worry about losing the bayonet."

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Hayate sat down at her desk in the field, pouring over maps and reconnaissance. Her first priority was the rescue of General Shikinami's forces. The problem was their jamming. She did have a plan to defeat that. She'd gain air superiority and fly a mage through the field at a steady speed. Since the field was circular in nature, they could find an epicenter to it by finding the diameter. Following that, there would then be a raid on it by RF6. None of Acturans would be able to stop the Wolkenritter, Fate, and Nanoha. With their jamming destroyed, she could win. Hayate knew that she needed alternatives in case her main plan did not work.

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They were the best of the best, the Acturan special forces known as the Assault Troopers. Anytime, anywhere, they could get in and accomplish their mission. "Shank" Rask was one of the Atroopers, close combat specialist and lightning mage. He and the rest of his squad sat down for their briefing. They were all in full battle gear, standard Acturan armor with several extra plates of ceramic armor. Also, they were all mages. There was their sniper and divination mage "Hawkeye" Mary, with a synthetic-stocked GCR-13 bolt action rifle. It fired the 7x57mm round and for this mission, they had been given an exclusively shieldbreaker rounds. These cut through magical shields like they weren't there. They were also very expensive as each individual bullet had to be handmade, and the magic runes had to be engraved into the jacket by hand. There was the leader "Dragon" Jay, assault rifle specialist and fire mage. "Brute" McCloud was their heavy weapons specialist and shield mage. They were but one fireteam in the massive machine of the Acturan military, but they were Assault Troopers.

Field Marshal Parker himself came into the room to greet them. They shook hands politely.

"I have a mission for you: kill General Shikinami and any members of Riot Force Six that you happen across. I will leave the planning of the mission to you."


	9. Sworn to Fight and Die

Chapter 9

Sworn to Fight and Die

"The Acturan mentality would be amusing were it not so serious," mused Hayate to Nanoha and Fate as they lounged around her cabin in the warship

"How so?" inquired Nanoha, "It is, after all, better to know and understand one's opponent."

"You see, the Acturans -as in the the ones from the geographic area of Acturus on their homeworld- were conquered by several groups over the ages until about eighteen-hundred years ago. Following their independence from a being a puppet state of their neighbors, the newly formed Kingdom of Acturus under the rule of King Acturan III, a man claiming to be descended from the man who formed the ancient Acturan Empire. This relates back to their national mentality as he made it a standing policy for their military might to be able fight off the next strongest country. He then began a series of conquests. This is part of where their stubbornness comes from as you see a pattern of never letting go of any piece of land they took, rather similar to a less suicidal version of Stalin's 'Not a step back' Order 227.

Fast forward a few hundred years and you see another big expansion. This inspired a national fervor, but massive losses and mismanagement by commanders along with the invention of the printing press and photograph brought the war to the home front. The government grew weak after this venture and made a loan for a billion ropis; this quite nearly bankrupted the country, causing a massive depression. The absolutely terrible conditions caused an uprising. This caused a civil war between the Loyalists and the Rebels that lasted just over a century. This is when the Democratic Republic of Acturus came into being. They had racked up a massive war debt and took another loan from a country. They paid off the loan by invading and conquering the country.

Fast forward again, and they form a bloc with their allies and take over the world. Around this time, they discover magic, allowing them to engage in faster-than-light travel. This is when they began to conquer other planets and become the rather dickish power that we are now invading."

"Hayate, did you really have to infodump all that on us?" asked Fate.

"The information on their history is interesting, but how does relate to their mentality? I do understand the general idea. They responded to getting invaded by invading everyone else in a vicious circle. Is that it?" said Nanoha.

"Actually, that is it. You were spot on. What makes it fascinating is that most of the groups that they have conquered now share this national feeling. I chalk it up to the government not giving a damn about people's culture, letting people do what they want for the most part in that regard, and a good propaganda machine inspiring people to think of themselves as all being citizens of the Republic," answered Hayate.

Hayate then fumbled around her office, looking for something. With a cry of victory, she returned with a bottle of brandy and three glasses for them.

"Umm Hayate, we will need to get back to our quarters and you're the commander who is supposed to be setting, y'know, a good example," stated Fate.

"I'll be fine in the morning."

The door opened as an exhausted Vita, Signum, Shamal, Zafira, and Rein returned.

"Would you like a little brandy?" offered Hayate.

"Sure, why not."

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The halftracks made their way through the blasted ruins of the sector of city. They were bringing up both troops and supplies. The Acturan advance had stopped while they hunkered down for the night. After the heavy casualties in that first house clearing, they decided not to bother with trying to take it. Instead, they had destroyed the buildings either by calling in air support, artillery fire, or simply annihilating it with the weapons immediately available. At night, the bombardment began anew. There was no hurry, merely a slow, patient pounding inevitability as they pounded the cordoned section into gravel as they ground it to dust under boots and treads. Aircraft dropped incendiaries on the ruins, setting them ablaze. This was the style of the Acturan military, outmaneuver and grind the enemy to defeat against a patient combined arms advance with air and artillery support. This was how they fought.

Hennessey lay down on the makeshift rampart of rubble they had made. There wouldn't be any more advancing for the day. They had penetrated five kilometers into the TSAB held area. He crawled a bit up the rampart to get a look at the section of the city. It was alight with the flames. More destruction was wrought as artillery pounded buildings. The rubble would have posed a problem to older armored fighting vehicles, but the current ones were more than able to traverse such terrain. On the thermal vision, he saw someone move through the wreckage. He crawled back down and laid back next Lieutenant "LT" Rakas.

"Hey LT, how ya' doin?"

"Still feeling a bit of phantom pain from the prosthetic, and other than that little thing, I'm living in a world of shit."

Hennessey laughed for a bit, "Good one, LT. I've been thinking, what are we going to do after the war?"

"Dunno, John. I think I'd visit my family as soon humanly possible. Then maybe... I guess I'll just go with the flow when the time comes. Definitely grow my hair out a bit once I don't need to worry about it getting caught in a helmet."

"I think I'll get a tan when I don't need to keep body enclosing armor on all the time."

She laughed.

"I've been wanting to ask this for while, but would you like to go out to restaurant or something when we get rotated off the front lines?"

"Sure, why not. We've just got to get over the hump of this fucking city. I lost eleven men in that building. Now we're just leveling the buildings and shooting any survivors. I can deal with that; far fewer casualties that way," said the lieutenant.

"LT, you mind if I take top?" inquired Hennessey, voice dripping with innuendo.

"Sergeant, you will always be _my_ bitch. You are, as they say, whipped" answered Rakas.

"Sounds kinky. Didn't know you were into that dominatrix thing," commented Hennessey.

"I like that quick wit of yours. Not only is it amusing, but it makes you a damn fine squad leader."

"Thanks LT. Speaking of that, sorry about fucking up with handling the prisoner," apologized Hennessey.

"You already got your ass verbally reamed while I was tripping balls on painkillers. Shit happens, but don't do it again."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am."

"Oh, I found this in the ruins," said Rakas, holding up a candy bar, "It's still good. Want to share it?"

"Yeah. That'll be nice, real nice."

Hennessey removed his gloves and his helmet. Under the helmet, Sergeant John Hennessey was a rather pale man with dark brown hair cut high and tight. His kind blue eyes spoke of better times than this engineered hell. Lieutenant Rakas was not exactly pretty in a normal sense. She had dull brown hair and an ugly scar along the side of her face from training accident with a grenade in a training exercise. Still, there was something Hennessey found about her that made her so beautiful to him. He smiled as she unwrapped the bar of chocolate. It was rather sticky, so they took turns to take bites out of it out of a sense of practicality rather than intimacy.

"That was good, haven't had one of those since I was a little boy. Still damn good," commented Hennessey.

"They're great, much better than the cardboard-like crap we get with the rations," said Rakas.

"What is it with women and chocolate?" said Hennessey, smiling his head off.

"You don't like chocolate. Only a soulless creature could dislike chocolate. Heretic! Burn the witch!" answered the lieutenant jokingly.

"Hey, sorry about Foster. He was a good guy in the 'toon."

"Thanks, but I'd rather not talk about it. The man was like a little bro' to me. I miss him, I miss him a lot."

'We'll give 'em hell. I promise, John. We'll give 'em hell for Foster and everyone else."

"Hell's that noise?" asked Hennessey, putting on his helmet and gloves.

"Sarge! LT!," yelled Jenkins, running up to him, "We've got TSAB armor and infantry advancing on our position!"

Sure enough, a bright beam from one of the hovertanks' main guns flew overhead. They could feel the heat of it even from meters away. They threw themselves prone over the top of the rampart. Hennessey fired off accurate two-round bursts at the infantry. There were hundreds of them advancing with nearly a dozen APCs and a platoon of tanks laying down a hail of bolts that turned to one scything fan of white hot death. The impacts melted metal and turned rubble to molten glass. As for what they did to people, the less said, the better. Men were blown apart, blood and other fluids flash boiled. Heads exploded into bloody mist and spraying, pinkish brain matter.

"Sarge, these fuckers still can't keep their fucking heads down. Taking shot..."

Jenkins fired off a long burst from his weapon, emptying nearly half of a magazine into a mage's face. A few rounds managed to get through, going clean through the helmet. While there were only a smallish holes in the front, the tumbling rounds ripped apart massive holes upon exit. Some lacked the energy to penetrate the rear of the helmet and simply bounced around inside the skull, utterly destroying the brain.

"...Head ventilated."

"Good kill, Jenkins," answered Hennessey as he fired another burst at the advancing infantry, "The hell is that noise?"

A T-70 rolled up onto the rampart in a hull down position and fired it's cannon. A massive plume of flame blasted from the barrel as it propelled a finned tungsten carbide dart out the barrel at seven kilometers per second. It crossed the distance near instantly. At ranges of a few hundred meters, the round was more than capable of piercing the shield of the hovertank and penetrating the armor. The spike bounced around and shattered inside the compartment of the tank ripping the crew apart with shards of hypersonic shrapnel.

Hennessey's world was suddenly removed from sound by the roar of the cannon. LT was shouting something. A group of TSAB soldiers put up a magical shield. He pulled a grenade from his vest and pulled the pin and overcooked the grenade for a second before throwing it. It exploded overhead a little behind the TSAB soldiers, showering them in shrapnel. Most of it was deflected or stopped by the barrier jackets and body armor, but enough got through that a few fell down, wounded. A missile streaked out to destroy a APC, sending the turret meters into the air. Grenades blasted out to kill and maim in the dirt. Machine guns opened up, creating a beaten zone of bullet impacts. Hennessey saw one man go down as a bolt hit the ground in front of him sending splinters of concrete through the helmet. There was blood and some other oozing fluid dripping from splinters.

Several tanks and a dozen infantry fighting vehicles rolled up along the rampart. Immediately a beam from one of the tanks slammed into the glacis plate of one of the IFVs, turning it red and white before punching clear through. The machine exploded as the beam cooked off the ammunition for the 30mm automatic grenade launcher, machine gun, anti-tank missile, and the diesel fuel. Nearby infantry were violently torn apart with ferocity matched by no beast and were set alight by burning fuel. One of the mages fired off a thin beam from his weapon that he used to slice through the turret of one of the IFVs with a near surgical precision. The mage, a cut above the rest, was then turned to unrecognizable giblets and pink mist by a stream of 30mm grenades.

From the ruins, more tanks, infantry, and APCs came. The ringing is Hennessey's ears finally stopped and he fired once more, a short stream of tracers flying out. It was time to reload. He pulled another magazine from his vest and the first round was chambered with that same satisfying sound. Behind the helmet, he grinned; no other sound was nearly as beautiful as the sound that a gun made when you first pulled back the bolt to chamber a round. He fired off a few single shots to check his aim before flipping the selector to auto and firing bursts until the advancing mage dropped. They eventually did. Another group of mages were advancing under the cover of shields and the rapid fire weapon of an APC. He hurled his last pair of grenades and brought down a few of the mages.

"Jenkins, take down those turret gunners!"

"Aye sir," called the marksman as he loaded another magazine and chambered the first round.

He fired off a pair of long bursts before his magazine ran dry, but they were enough to take down the gunners. Hennessey could easily imagine just how frightening it would be to be talking to your commander one moment and have their headless corpse drop down the next. In spite of the storm of lead, the TSAB soldiers ran through the hail of fire to the base of rampart. Hennessey heard the scream of the pulsejets as a pair of Hornets came overhead to drop a load of guided bombs onto the enemies. The rearmost enemies disappeared under a cloud of brownish-grey dirt kicked up from the blasts. The planes swooped back down, attacking now with cannons. APCs fired at the low flying planes and brought one down, turning it into a burning twisted wreck of metal. Ammunition cooked off inside of the fire with audible pops. The pilot, burning and missing an arm, stumbled from the wreckage before being cut down with a few mana bolts.

Hennessey opened up with his rifle, blind firing at the troops at the bottom of the rampart. It was rather difficult to miss and he heard more than a few screams of pain. Jenkins overcooked hurled a few frag grenades down. He was rewarded with more screams of pain. Hennessey affixed the brutally simple spike bayonet onto the end of his rifle.

"Hennessey, I just got orders to retreat so we can blow them to hell at range. Get your squad and haul ass," ordered his platoon commander.

"Yes ma'am. Jenkins, with me. Get me over to the rest of my squad."

"Yes sir!"

"It's sarge, damnit! Do I look like LT to you?" complained Hennessey

The two men ducked down behind the rampart of rubble and ran as bolts flew overhead in the smoke filled air. Jenkins led him over to the rest of his squad. Draken fired braced his rifle on the rubble and lobbed a grenade up in the air before it came down on the heads of the mages, sending up spray of dirt, rubble, and body parts.

"Good shot, Draken. We're hauling ass to LT before blowing them all to hell. They're too close to breaking through," said Hennessey,

"Yes Sarge," answered the squad as they hurried over to where LT was gathering the rest of the platoon.

Tanks and IFVs reversed direction as they backed up through the rubble filled streets. As they moved out, infantry would pause to take pot shots to cover their retreat. The tanks sprayed lead from their coaxial machine guns. Commanders unbuttoned their tanks to add to the fire with the pintle mounted machine guns. They were brave men, exposing themselves like that to enemy fire like that. IFVs did the same, but with 30mm grenades. They were used bouncing grenades that used a small explosive charge in the nose to propell them above the heads of the TSAB troops where they promptly exploded, sending out thousands of deadly slivers of metal.

A tank floated over the crest of the rampart, only to be flipped backwards as KE penetrator slammed into its exposed belly, an area exceeding difficult to armor effectively for any armored fighting vehicle. The T-70 attempted to solve this problem with a v-shaped hull and thicker bottom armor, but it was still one of the weaker areas of design. The TSAB hovertanks lacked the torque and grip that a treaded platform had and as such, were bowled over like cue balls by powerful enough impacts. Wisely, the other tanks assumed a hull down position as they began to pound the Acturans. A T-70 went up in flames as the beam penetrated its already damaged armor and hit the propellant tanks. The turret popped off the tank with a massive blast, suffering the jack-in-the-box effect. The turret came crashing down onto some infantry, crushing them under its bulk. They screamed as bones shattered and organs were crushed. Their buddies tried to extricate them or comfort them but they all died, wretched and screaming, clawing at the earth like animals.

A single mage came from over the rampart. Hennessey could see something glinting in the firelight but paid it no heed.

"Squad, waste that dumb motherfucker," ordered Hennessey as he shouldered his rifle. He lined the circular aperture of the rear sight with the hooded post of the front sight. He fired a burst of fire at the mage as did everyone. Grenades, bullets, shells, even a few missiles all came to turn that single mage into so much mincemeat. Every bullet missed, landing in the ground around the man. Shells and grenades exploded around the man and fragments landed around him as he calmly walked forward.

"_Ignite, Dolneaz."_

With that the true nature of the foe was revealed a blue flames lit up, showing long strands of wire connected to the mage's gloves. At a command, the wires flew through the air ripping entangling men. They tried to fire back, but it was in vain as the wires still moved to intercept the bullets. With a tug on the strings men were ripped apart. Heads rolled, blood spurted from severed limbs, and entrails leaked from bisected torsos.

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Smiley sat back in the mess on the base. He'd flown three sorties already, so he wouldn't be flying again today. He was off duty, so he was allowed to drink a little. He took a sip of his beer leaned back; life was good at the moment: there was alcohol, time to rest, and no people shooting at him.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Our new squadronmate, Fatass, got a pair of gun kills today. Let's give the man a beer!" called Raven with their new teammate, Leonard "Fatass" Compton.

He was looking slightly embarrassed. Smiley ran to the fridge and pulled out a can of beer. He tossed the drink to the only slightly pudgy pilot. He was a nice guy, soft spoken and pretty polite. He'd been working in an office before he got called up from the reserve to fill in gaps caused by combat losses of pilots in between training cycles of recruits; he had a wife and kids back home. The man deftly caught the beer and opened it up. He took a sip.

"Wow. This beer tastes like piss. I'm not even getting a slight buzz. Forgot just how horrible this tastes."

There was cheering at this. It was weak, poor tasting brew, but it eventually grew on you. At that point, it was tolerable rather than horrible.

"Smiley, get this man some whiskey to remove the taste of that piss."

"Aye, sir."

Smiley went back to fridge and brought out a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. It was nice local brand. He poured out a shot of whiskey for the man. Leonard took the glass and downed it in one go.

"Damn! Much better!" exclaimed the man.

"Good man here! He's got taste!" whooped Raven.

Kyle "Smiley" left to go to bed. Festivities and such were nice, but he'd be flying a bunch more sorties tomorrow and he needed the rest.

xxxxxxxxx

"So, what's it like in Acturus, Miss Caerys?"

"It's nice. I do love my country. The Diamondback Mountains are a wonderful place to visit, especially in winter. And no, I'm not giving you any vital intel."

"Curses," remarked the interrogator dryly.

"I will say this since any moron can realize this. You suck in the air. You do have a few heavy hitters like that bitch who used the giant pink death ray, but for the most part you're terrible. I'm not going to say why or how to improve it, just let you agonize over it."

'Thank you, Miss Caerys. That will be all for today."

xxxxxxxxx

The team of Assault Troopers were marching to the battlefield. The building in this area were ruined, having been taken literally hours before that day. They were a few hundred meters from the front.

Hawkeye communicated to her teammates after using some of her divination magic, "There's a powerful mage ripping our forces to pieces. If he doesn't die, the TSAB may very well break through in that area."

Dragon replied dryly, "We get to play the big damn heroes, joy. Tell me about the mage's capabilities as we go there. Haul ass, people!"

The team ran through the rubble to assist their comrades in arms/


	10. Situational Assessments

Chapter 10

Situational Assessments

"Oh shit! This has gotten fucked up!" cursed Hennessey, as he hid behind cover and popped off a few shots. Because of that one fucking mage, they had been pinned down as the TSAB advanced. Of course, he was all out of grenades except for smokes. Abso-fucking-lutely wonderful. Ammo was running low after the hours of fighting as dawn began to approach; it was a bare few hours after midnight.

"Shit. I'm down to a mag and a half. You, LT?"

"Two rifle mags, three and a half pistol mags."

"Fuck!" cursed the man again as he popped up to fire at the TSAB soldiers. A bolts whipped past his face, partially melting the helmet. Hennessey screamed as molten ceramic and plastic came in contact with his skin and ripped the thing off. This took off a good bit of skin and flesh with an audible tearing noise. Blood, dark and gleaming dripped down his face and onto his uniform.

"Shi~t man, you're hurt," said Jenkins.

"I honestly never would have guessed, Jenkins... Of course I'm fucking hurt! I just ripped off a good chunk of my own skin."

Jenkins grunted and opened fire before popping back behind the block of cement they were using as cover. Rakas popped up to fire a few shots from her pistol. At close ranges, the heavy explosive rounds (she habitually kept her sidearm loaded with explosive rounds) could take down a mage if they hit with a round or two, easily able to put a fist sized hole in them.

Near invisible and ghostlike, four figures moved into the platoon.

"Who are you?" asked Rakas as she slipped another round into her pistol before pulling back the slide to chamber the first round with a satisfying _schick-chick_.

"Assault Troopers." answered one, who appeared to be their leaders.

"Hennessey, the big damn heroes have arrived!"

"Hell, it's about time! Just for your information, bullets won't do shit to that mage that's got us pinned down with that razor floss shit."

"We can handle it. You do realize that assault troopers are all mages?"

"Go out and kick some ass, maybe take some names. That's all we're asking."

"Oh we can do that..."

The four Acturan mages bounded over the piece of concrete. "Brute" McCloud opened fire with his MG-11 and dropped a grenade from the underbarrel grenade launcher he had attached to the gun. The mage sliced these projectiles apart and moved to slice the team apart. The wires slipped on near frictionless shields. Electricity crackled from Rask's fist before he unleashed the stream of electricity. It connected with the wire as the wire in question separated from the glove and a new one took its place. Rask cursed and fired off a shot from his combat shotgun. Wires sliced apart the buckshot in midair.

An aura of flames emanated from Dragon as he readied to fight. He fired off burst after burst from his rifle to keep the enemy mage busy. Of course these were deflected or sliced to apart. Other mages opened fire on their Acturan counterparts. Precisely placed bullets, guided by the Third Eye of divination managed to get past the flailing wires and ventilate heads, turning them into a pink mist. They sliced through shields like a hot knife through butter. Rask sent out a massive cone of lightning from his hand, quickly depleting and breaking through magical shields. The smoke filled air was too filled with the smell of ozone and the unique aroma that only burning flesh can provide. McCloud used his shields offensively, using them to block attacks then reorienting them to slice enemies apart. The rubble grew slick with blood.

"We can't let them go out there alone. We've got to advance!" yelled someone over the radio.

"Over the top!" yelled Rakas over the sounds of battle.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" responded her platoon as they bounded over the top of piece of concrete, bayonets affixed. The bayonets weren't affixed because they expected to actually come to grips with the enemy in hand to hand combat, but rather because of the fear they instilled in enemies and the aggressiveness they instilled in the soldier behind the bayonet.

Tanks and infantry fighting vehicles drove forward, tearing up the rubble as they advanced with guns blazing. With that one mage tied up by the four assault troopers facing him, the rest were free to fire and most importantly, regain the initiative and dictate the battle. Swathes of the rampart were blown sky high along with the TSAB soldiers on them by high explosive shells. Bolts of mana and bullets flew across the open space. Kinetic energy penetrators punched through the rampart to engage tanks hiding behind it. Grenades tore up the TSAB position. The assault troopers had given them an opening to fight and win.

That one mage was on the defensive using the wires of his Device to form shields against the onslaught of attacks from the Acturan mages. Jay had finished readying his attack and slung the rifle over his back. The TSAB mages paused for a moment before forming four Mid-Childan magic circles in the air. Rask, Mary, and McCloud kept the mages busy with an unrelenting assault of lightning, bullets, and offensively used shields. A miniature sun formed in Jay's hands. His magic protected him from the heat, but the the rubble around him began to grow soft and melt. He compressed it and directed the resulting reaction outward. A line of plasma was directed outward in a microcosm of the nuclear shaped charge warheads of the missiles used by space warships. The TSAB mage never stood a chance as he disappeared. Stone turned to liquid and then gas from the sheer heat of the attack.

The TSAB forces retreated chased by bullets, shells, and grenades. Those left behind were taken prisoner by the infantry or crushed and shredded under the treads of tanks. Those still fighting were put down without mercy, mostly with bayonets as the soldiers were nearly out of ammo and were worried that there would be another attack. Hundreds of bodies were scattered around the battlefield. It had begun to stink as sphincter muscles relaxed, and the dead shit themselves. There was a metallic tang in the air that only blood could provide and a stench that only spilled intestines could provide.

"Hennessey. At least try to fix up your face. You look uglier than usual."

"Aw, I love you too, LT."

"Can it dickhead."

"Yes ma'am."

Hennessey rifled through his backpack before pulling out his first aid kit. He poured some water from his canteen onto a bandage and used that to wipe off some of the blood and begin cleaning the wound. He then pulled out the disinfectant spray and sprayed some of that onto his face. It stung, but he never made a sound. He then put a dressing onto his face before using surgical tape to make sure it stayed on his face. The face wounds always bled the most.

xxxxxxxxx

"Our hovertanks are very ineffective compared to their more traditional caterpillar tracked designs. Why did we even adopt them?"

"They have an advantage in speed and mobility."

"Well, what about the tracked command vehicle we made a few years back?"

"That was limited use and was evaluated as being ineffective in comparison to hovering designs."

"Let's reevaluate that. A treaded platform is a more stable firing platform."

"Perhaps we should contract some engineers from Non-administrated World 97. They have a good deal more experience with tracked vehicles."

"On that idea, what about just buying some of their tank hulls and then refitting the electronics, powerplant, and armaments?"

"Could work, but most of the first rate tanks on that world are owned by powers that would not share. We might end up with another war, but thankfully against a planet of over two-hundred sovereign nations with a world 'government' -and I use that world very lightly- lacking greatly in testicular fortitude. Chances are, though, the big players would influence most of the little guys."

"Given that you seem to know what you're talking about, which tank design would you use?"

"M1 Abrams without a doubt. Throw out the turbine engine and replace it with a magic powerplant and you remove its biggest weakness. You could use a Merkava, but it's really not the best general use tank. It's an excellent armored fighting vehicle, but it is not particularly mobile. That said, it's crew protection is excellent. It was essentially designed to curbstomp hordes of monkey model ex-Soviet tanks crewed by people regarded as the worst tankers in the world on their planet. There is the Challenger II which is considered to have superior armor protection to the Abrams, but it hasn't really been produced in mass. The Merkava, regarded as the best protected tank, has suffered combat losses, so I'm taking its combat record of no vehicles destroyed with a grain of salt."

"What about say a T-72? Of course, I'm not really familiar with the armored fighting vehicles of this world."

"Get a T-90. It's a T-72 with an updated fire control system and redesigned turret. It, however, has not been proven in combat. The T-72 has had a poor showing, but those were monkey models crewed by appallingly horrible tankers."

"I suppose you're right. Perhaps we can acquire an Abrams for tests and then produce it under license?"

"I don't know about that. The guys in charge are already unhappy about the results of our war with DRA and we know about their hate-on for mass based weapons. I don't think that they would take kindly to us using anything from Non-administrated World 97. It, as in mass based weapons, are however, all they have."

"They do have some mages there. Take 'Ace of Aces' Takamachi or Lt. Colonel Yagami; they're both from that world."

"Ya got me, there. They are likely to have some issues with regards to our use of them in the military. They have more than a few conventions and gentleman's agreements on fighting wars. One of them is about using underage people as soldiers. It's legal under our laws but not under theirs. They effectively have dual-citizenship. If we piss them off, than the DRA would likely give them interstellar capability. Having those war-mongering psychos loose would not be a good thing."

"Give them some more credit than that. They have a very rich culture and history."

"A history full of war after war."

"And we don't. Rose tinted glasses, man."

xxxxxxxxx

President Richard Squire of the DRA had managed to get on to Basilisk Station, one of the hyperspace bases/dockyards to witness the final tests of the new warships, the cruiser _Devastation_ and the frigate _Victory_. He'd heard people call it the Deep Space Fleet, a fitting name for the fleet that had been salvaged from the wreckage of TSAB strikes. Local spaceyards were building in system monitors. They wouldn't be caught like that again. He'd served in the Space Force himself. He had a respect for those poor fucking gropos, but their asses rode in Space Force equipment.

As he came to a window, he finally saw the two ships. They looked backwards to him; it was as if someone had taken a regular Acturan warship and tilted on its side. He knew this already, but seeing the lethally dark, matte black warships was something entirely different. They had their missile armament reduced by two thirds for a ship of the size and far more mana reactors than any other ship of their respective sizes. These were required for the larger laser and railgun armament. The _Victory_ mounted twenty railgun turrets and thirty lasers. It equipped to fare better in the knife fights -relatively speaking as distances were vast in space- that the TSAB seemed to prefer. The lasers would slaughter mages, and the railguns added much needed close range firepower if or, more realistically, when they managed to close. Hopefully they would be enough to let the battle line.

"Good morning Mr. President," stated the Frederick Mathews, head of the Naval Research and Development team.

"Good morning to you also, Dr. Mathews. It's more like the afternoon to me what with time lag and all that jazz."

"I see. We're going to be showcasing the _Victory_ today; tests for the _Devastation_ are going to occur within the next two to three 're going to start off with a test of the engines followed by shields and weapons systems. There are going to be more tests, but we'd like you to see the ones that we're doing today," said Dr. Mathews.

"Ah. Thank you," replied the president, looking the scientist up and down, as this was their first in person meeting. Mathews was not overly tall, on the short side actually. The fact that the man was skinny made him seem somehow diminished. The scientist did, however, carry himself with pride, something that Richard could easily respect.

"Captain, all clear over there in the _Victory_?" called Dr. Mathews into his headset.

"All clear. Everything is in green. Power is steady from all mana reactors. We are ready to begin burn," answered the captain of the ship.

"All right. We're sending the tugs to get you clear of the shipyards. All clear?"

"Aye. We're ready."

"Tugs, begin burn into position. Is everyone but rescue ships clear from the area in case of an emergency?"

"Aye," came a chorus of acknowledgement from tug captains, personnel in the orbital drydock, and captains of rescue ships.

The tugs, cylindrical ships mounting a cluster of chemical rockets on either end for propulsion, burned their engines for a few seconds, adjusting course with maneuvering thrusters before killing the burn on the aft engines and burning the forward engines to stop their motion. It was a simple exercise in physics, but very important. Airlocks opened up and space-suited men attached towing lines from the tugs to the hull of the warship.

"Dorsal port tow lines attached."

"Dorsal starboard tow lines attached."

"Ventral port tow lines attached."

"Ventral starboard tow line attached."

"Acknowledged. How does it go, _Victory_?" said Dr. Mathews.

"Everything is green. Just waiting for the men to return to their ships," said the captain.

"Alright," answered the doctor.

"The crews of all tugs have returned to their ships," said one of the many people doing various jobs in the room.

"Tugs, proceed to tow _Victory_ ten kilometers out," directed Dr. Frederick.

"Aye," came the acknowledgements.

Richard observed that the process was going far more formally than a normal ship launch; it was understandable given that this was a first test with a new ship, the first of her class.

"I remember my days in the Force. I started out commanding one of the tugs. I learned some important lessons back then. For example, always listen to your chief," threw out the president.

"Of course, Mr. President. What do you think of the new ship?" inquired the scientist.

"She seems good enough. I am concerned by the smaller missile armament and whether the side by side engine arrangement is as effective as the traditional over and under arrangement. I do like the increased laser armament, however."

"Any particular reasons?"

"There probably are practical reasons, but I find it visually strange in comparison to our normal ships. Still, I have full confidence in the effectiveness of the new ship. My dream warship would be an eight engine shielded superdreadnought, five hundred meters long or so. Just a ship to go charging into a TSAB formation and destroy them with broadsides pounding left and right. It is probably an empty dream though, given that the resources are probably better spent on cruisers or other, smaller ships."

"We can only dream, right?" said Dr. Mathews with a slight smile on his face.

"Indeed, Doctor. About how long until we reach the desired position, Doctor."

"Approximately thirty minutes Mr. President."

"Forgot we moved things this slowly. It's really been a while."

"Well, safety first. We wouldn't want the tugs to run out of fuel in case something happened, so they aren't burning much."

"I know this. I did serve in the Space Force."

"My apologies, Mr. President."

The two men watched the burn of engines as the ships moved into position. It was slow and graceful, almost like a dance. The two men watching were quite happy to enjoy this moment of silence.

After a while, President Squire broke the silence, saying, "I believe we can win, but we must have victory in space."

"I absolutely agree. Our new shielded warships should make victory all the more achievable."

"Yes, Doctor. We could fight them with unshielded vessels, but it would be much more difficult."

"Can we win?" asked Richard, with an odd tone to his voice.

"Yes," said the scientist, smiling, "Yes we can."

"Thank you. I hope the two of us are right. Otherwise, millions of soldiers -not any, but soldiers of the Democratic of Acturus, the finest I have had the honor to know and serve amongst- are going to die for what, a military occupation by those decadent, arrogant, and weak willed men of the TSAB," said man, voice growing from calm to an angry crescendo.

"We can do this, Mr. President. We're about ready for the next set of tests."


	11. Fly to Live

I promised on Spacebattles that I would write a dogfight between Fate and Smiley. Here it is

* * *

Chapter 11

Fly to Live

**3 Days since attempted breakout by TSAB forces**

"Nanoha, Fate, Signum, Vita, I need the four of you to go out and secure air superiority. You are not authorized for bombardment. I trust that you four can do this. Once air superiority is secured, I'm going to hit their flank with an armored assault. We can win the Battle of Arkaios and take out that communications jammer. We can do some math to figure out the location of their jammer once we don't have their fighters mixing it up in there. You guys are the best of the best, so I know you can win. Befriend the crap out of them, Nanoha," said Hayate. The young woman was under a lot of stress and it could be seen in her bloodshot eyes, the dark purple circles under her eyes, and the disheveled and wrinkled state of her uniform.

"It's taken me a while to get this counteroffensive ready but I managed to whip up some old magic artillery and get that here along with a few battalions of armor and a few thousand more troops. This ties into your secondary objective. I need you to try and get a message through to General Shikinami that I'm going to need him to get his forces ready to mobilize away into a pincer upon one of the forces at the edges of the city to breakout."

An aide popped into the room, "General Yagami. The forces have been assembled. You've done your job and caffeine can only go so far. Get some rest and leave it to us. You don't need it all on your shoulders."

"I just spent the past 64 hours doing just that. I suppose I can delegate it to you, Caddilac. You know the timeframe, right. Oh, Nanoha you're team leader. Here is a written briefing for you on your part in the operation," said Hayate handing over a manilla folder full of papers and a holographic projector to Nanoha. While magic was the norm, hard copies were retained for their usefulness, particularly their immunity to anti-magic effects or magic jamming.

xxxxxxxxx

"I can't believe it. Those bastards in the high command actually gave enough of a shit about us to send this. Bless those fuckers, deep in their bunkers," said Lt. Rakas with actual emotion in her voice as she and several other men in her platoon worked on using crowbars to crack open the crates of ceramic body armor. Each "suit" was in a labeled bag. Of course, there were a few more suits than needed from the losses her platoon had received, being barely over half strength at the moment.

She picked up a bag labeled SMALL and opened it up to expose the contents. It consisted of a cuirass of dull, camouflage pattern composite to protect the torso, single piece tassets for the upper legs, and spaulders for the upper arms. It came with an instruction manual on how to fasten the armor. She hefted up the pieces and began fastening them as the men and a few women around her began doing likewise. The first apparent difference was weight. It added about another twelve kilos to the amount of gear the soldiers would need to hump around.

She remembered these things well. They were invaluable in the counterinsurgency operations because those fuckers just loved burying a hundred kilos of explosives; she recalled an incident where at least two hundred kilos of explosives exploded under a halftrack. She unconsciously fingered the spot on the built in gorget where it had stopped a fifteen centimeter long shard of metal from killing her. Then the cowardly fuckers had opened fire. Her armor had taken dozens of hits by the end of the engagement and her helmet had been busted.

Hennessey too had put on the armor. Just like her, his helmet was off and tucked under his arm. His cheek was a still a mess of burn and scabs. It was better than it had been. The field hospitals were still inundated with a flood of burn victims, so reconstructive surgery was not a high priority. The helmet was new. It had that subtle look of being not quite broken in yet.

There was more. A few halftracks pulled up, filled with reinforcements for the units that had been in the fight since the beginning. They were likely fresh recruits out of training or reservists mobilized from the mind boggling massive military reserve from the mandatory national service instituted by the government. There were, of course, other alternatives to military service at least during peacetime. Hennessey saw a funny looking vehicle drive up. It looked like someone had taken a 165mm howitzer, removed the turret of an IFV, and slapped on a bunch more applique armor strapped onto it, particularly on the front. The vehicle looked like it had taken a shot through the glacis that had gutted the vehicle.

Hennessey banged on the vehicle and yelled over the engine, "Hey open up in there! I've got a question for you!"

The driver popped the hatch and asked, "The fuck you want, crunchy?"

"The fuck kind of vehicle is that, softy?" retorted Hennessey.

"The vehicle took a beam cannon to the front. The vehicle couldn't be returned to an IFV, but we managed to procure a 165 to put into it. What we've been using it for is we call out for the defenders to come out of the building and surrender or die. Rather than send crunchies in to clear it out, we open fire with this into the building if they don't comply. Me and the boys have been getting some good practice in learning to bring down buildings in one shot. We're here to support you fuckers since you took a hit during that unorganized breakout operation," yelled the driver.

"What do you call this thing? By the way, writing 'wood chipper' on the tread guard is some funny shit."

"We call this thing an assault gun. First of its kind."

"Have fun rolling with us. Hope you can keep up."

"We fuckin' can, crunchy. Best of luck to you poor fuckers without armored vehicles."

"I appreciate the sentiment."

The "assault gun" rolled off, pulverizing the same rubble that they had fought and bled over a few days ago.

"LT, those crazy armor fuckers mounted a fucking 165 into an IFV. That is fucking awesome," called Hennessey.

"They did what!," exclaimed Rakas, "I must agree; that is indeed fucking awesome. You got some fresh meat for your squad. Have fun?"

"Fuck you, LT."

"Maybe later, Sergeant."

She sauntered over to him and then said, with an abnormal sugary sweet tone, "Hennessey, I've got something for you."

Hennessey asked sarcastically, "Is it a blowjob?"

She continued strolling over and then kneed him in the groin. Hard. He collapsed into a fetal ball

"First, you don't talk to girls like that, especially a little wildcat like me. You will regret it. Second, here's that sidearm you wanted," said Rakas in that sugary sweet tone, dropping a pistol and several magazines onto his prone form.

"Sorry, LT. I've taken my slice of humble pie," groaned Hennessey.

"That's right. Who's my bitch? You're my bitch," cooed Rakas over the groaning man, "Get off your ass and show me some respect."

Hennessey dragged himself to his feet, snapped to attention, and saluted her before performing and about face and began to slowly and painfully walk toward his squad. Guffaws of laughter abounded from all around at the squad leader's plight.

"Fuck you all. Just, fuck you," cursed Hennessey. Grinning his head off, Art let Hennessey lean on him as he continued the walk to his squad. Hennessey flipped a rude gesture the way of the rest of the platoon. There was another chorus of laughter.

"Well Sarge, I was expecting you to say something wittier than just 'fuck you.' This isn't the Sergeant Hennessey, I know," snarked Art.

"Well Art, does it look like a normal time? I just took a knee right to my balls, and it hurts."

"You really did cross a line there."

"For fuck's sake, I did apologize."

"S'okay Sarge. Just walk it off. We all still like you, and you now have a legitimate reason to be a drill sergeant nasty to the new guys."

"Well, thanks Art. I wouldn't have thought of it that way."

"It's like you said on the march. We're all brothers here. If those new guys don't respect you, well fuck them. We like you. Everyone here has just been through hell, and we aren't going to be out of hell for a while. Sometimes funny shit happens. If anyone decides to disrespect you rather than the joking banter like almost any conversation between you and LT, I promise to personally assist you in pounding their face in."

"Thanks, Art. It means a lot to me."

He walked over to the two new squadmates; they were a pair of fresh faced kids. One was stockier than the other with mousy brown hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. The other was a shorter and wiry guy with red hair, green eyes, and freckled skin. She seemed confident.

"I'm Sergeant John Hennessey. I swear, if you do something really stupid, you will wish you were dead. Nice to meet the two of you..."

xxxxxxxxx

"Raven Squadron, we detect four inbounds at 8:45. They're too small to be planes, and they aren't acknowledging out radio calls. They're mages; take them out," crackled the voice of the Air Traffic Control.

"Raven to ATC, I hear you loud and clear. Adjusting course," returned Raven.

Smiley checked weapons. There were two Griffons, two drop tanks, and fourteen Mortals in his weapons bay. His cannons were loaded with with a full 900 rounds of 20mm ammunition, with every fifth round being a tracer. He knew that this was more than enough for a single mage, but then his thoughts drifted back to the battle where that single monster of a mage swept a pink beam of death across the sky. Such thoughts made his tongue feel suddenly drier.

"Climb to 23,000 meters to engage beyond visual range with Griffons, zoom and boom with Mortals and guns if that fails," ordered Raven to his squadron, "Avoid a turning fight. There isn't anything in these skies that can outrun a powerdiving Lancer."

"Damn straight!" agreed Smiley, but he nonetheless thought back to his fight against that mage that was able to teleport or something very close to it. He had never felt quite so powerless as when the mage had him at her mercy until, by luck on his side and arrogance on hers, he had managed to turn the tide.

The four fighter pilots climbed high into the air, to 23 kilometers above the surface of the planet. The mages appeared on radar at 40 kilometers. Circles closed in on their positions on the radarscope, indicating a lock as the shrill tone for a Griffon lock, lower pitched than a Mortal lock sounded in their helmets.

"At my command, Griffons off," ordered Raven, "Launch."

Weapons bays opened as four pairs of missiles streaked off into the distance. Hybrid rocket-scramjet motors let the missiles reach incredible speeds.

"Fate, Signum, Vita, enemies have launched missiles at us. I'm going to use a Divine Shooter to take them out," communicated Nanoha.

_Divine Shooter!_

The mentally guided magical projectiles streaked out from Nanoha's device into the distance. Not many were able to fly, guide a Shooter spell, and perform a divination spell at once. The magical attacks slammed into the missiles at a delta velocity approaching mach six or seven.

"Their airplanes are now diving in. Everyone get ready and do their best!" called Nanoha to her teammates.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit," cursed Raven softly, as tiny blips of the missiles disappeared, "Those bitches took out the missiles before the high-maneuver stage. Alright, form up to zoom and boom."

"They could be men," offered Joker in his deadpan tone.

"Yeah, but they seem to have a lot of girls," said Fatass.

Smiley smiled inside his helmet; the new guy was getting along well. The callsign was likely to stick even if the man lost a few kilos. That was just how the things work.

"Hey Smiley, how'd you get that callsign? I'm guessing something stupid, awesome, or both," asked Fatass.

"You crash a plane once with a smile on your face and you're known as Smiley for the rest of your life," ranted Smiley.

"Lock it up. We're going in. Smiley, with me," commanded Raven in a no-nonsense tone.

The four planes banked off before diving in as four avenging metal thunderbolts. Pulsejets roared and the air cracked as the sound barrier was broken. They were massive and ungainly in comparison to their human sized (and one pint-sized) foes. That was why they needed to use their speed to their advantage. However, the soldiers of the skies lived and died on speed.

_Plasma Lancer._

_Schwalbe Fliegen._

_Divine Shooter._

_Bogenform. Sturm Schwalbe._

All these magical attacks flew off into the distance, from the Fate's golden blasts to Signum's explosive arrow.

"Alright everyone, get your man if we have to break into individual dogfighting," called Raven.

"Outer left!" called Smiley.

"Inner right," stated Joker.

"Outer right," called Fatass.

"That leaves me with inner left then," finished Raven. Smiley could practically feel the man's grin behind the helmet. Smiley had his own predatory grin plastered on his face. It became even wider as the tone of a Mortal lock rang in his ear.

"Missiles off, gents," ordered Raven.

Smiley pulled the trigger and felt the airframe shake as the door opened, the slightly increased responsiveness of the controls as the missiles were away, and the end of the slight shaking as the bay doors closed. Outmaneuvering a pair of Mortals was virtually impossible because they were on high-maneuver from the moment of launch. Their range would have easily increased were this not the case, but the missiles were designed for the incredibly brutal and lethal missile "knife fights" of modern dogfighting. Smiley banked left with Raven. Joker and Fatass banked left. Smiley watched carefully, seeing a group of objects flash past them before turning around to home in on the airplanes.

"Heads up, we've got magical seekers!"

A chorus of acknowledged came as the pilots checked their six, a task made rather difficult by the spine behind the canopy, but that was why they had mirrors in the cockpit. They made the job of checking one's six so much easier.

The specks of the four mages were rushing up ahead as the missiles flew towards them. Smiley just felt a gut feeling that he was going to be pushed to the edge in this coming fight. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught that same blur of movement from his dogfight.

"Break!" he yelled as the form of a mage in a black barrier jacket and long blonde hair appeared, "Bandit in formation!"

Raven luckily heeded his wingman's words immediately. Had he not, the scythe of lightning would likely have taken off a wing. As it was, it ripped apart one of the weapons bay doors from his Lancer.

"Holy shit. Thanks," returned Raven before he rolled to narrowly avoid a pink beam of destructive energy. Nonetheless, paint bubbled on the surface of his plane.

"Individual engagement," called the squadron leader.

Smiley was way ahead of him pulling hard on both joysticks to narrowly avoid a slash. He hit the after burner to get the hell out for some breathing room. He began to hyperventilate as he saw an incoming beam of golden energy in the mirror. He drifted the plane across the sky, spinning it around and away from the blast.

"She's good. Real good," thought the pilot with an inner calm that bellied the growing fear in his gut, "I don't think I can pull that Cobra trick on her like I did to that other mage before. I'm not sure I can come out of this alive."

"He's good," thought Fate, unknowingly mirroring her opponent's thoughts, "He just dodged a scythe slash and a photon lancer while predicting my sonic move from before. This guy is something else. I'll need to end this quickly. Zanber Form with a Sonic Move should one shot this guy."

Smiley continued to pull his airplane through a series of maneuvers that would mimic a loss of control. If he could get her to lower her guard, he could win. He saw a flash and the blur of the mage coming out of that teleportation. Reflexively, he thumbed the firing stud for guns, sending a hail of 20mm rounds in the space ahead of him. The mage appeared, now with a sword of lightning as long as a single wing on his plane was wide but stopped as a hail of 20mm HEDP slammed into her shields. With any luck, some of the fragments had fucked her up a bit.

He opened up the airbrake as the mage sped ahead. It was risky because it could get you into a turning fight with a mage, but it quickly put him a good 300 meters behind her. A Mortal lock rang in his helmet and he dropped one, the increased drag from the opening of the weapons bay putting him even further behind her.

"How did he?" was the only thought running through Fate's head as the shields of her barrier jacket stopped a barrage of autocannon rounds. Nonetheless, a few fragments got through and shredded the sleeve of her jacket and some of the skin beneath. It was nothing serious, but a reminder that even the most powerful mages had to be careful around Acturan fighters. In her moment of weakness, the aircraft slipped past her as she continued forward. She heard that wail of a missile as she turned around. A quick spell blasted the missile into burning fuel and scrap metal. It still carried momentum, and her path carried her directly into the burning could of shrapnel. It was nothing her shields could not handle and she plowed right through it to get this especially slippery enemy pilot. However, as the pilot began to climb and disengage, she hovered to ready a Plasma Smasher.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," cursed Smiley, "My weapons aren't doing shit to her."

The tone of another missile lock sounded like music to his ears. He fired off a trio of Mortals. There were only ten Mortals left in his bay and 788 rounds of 20mm ammo. Furthermore, he dropped the now empty drop tanks and immediately switched to his internal fuel supply. He craned his neck to see what she was doing. A large array of runes were forming around her.

He began to hyperventilate and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. This could not be good. Smiley saw something coming his way and immediately cut engine power. The airplane dropped like the lump of metal it was. A lance of bright light cut through the sky a few dozen meters away from him. Though Smiley could not see it, the beam had destroyed his missiles. He could see it in all its blinding glory. His vision temporarily turned black as he turned the engine on once more and fiddled with the controls, trying to bring himself out of the dive.

Fate gasped as the plane began to plummet and tumble to the ground below. Though she knew deep down in her heart, it wasn't safe to do such a thing, she used a her Sonic Move to come to a position next to the plummeting airplane. Up close, she could see the myriad details of the plane. She caught the predatory grin painted on the front, the machine wielding jester above some writing she didn't understand, the nine kill marks, and the sight of a the man in the cockpit desperately struggling with the controls of the plane. She didn't want to kill a helpless opponent even if he would likely have pulled the trigger. The ground continued to come forward and pilot was unable to regain control of the airplane. Deciding that it was for the best, Fate swung Bardiche into the canopy. Hard. It shattered and a strange, almost gelatinous fluid streamed out. She used an incredibly powered down version of Bardiche's scythe to slice the straps before grabbing the grown man out of the cockpit and pulling away from the doomed fighter jet. I

Smiley began to regain his vision. He knew he wasn't in his Lancer anymore. He hadn't ejected. There was only one conclusion he could draw. The mage had decided to save him from a instant funeral pyre and possible impalement of a crash. He felt a slim arm around his midsection. Smiley finally a good look a the mage who held his life and death in her hands. She was pretty, gorgeous really, and he couldn't help but find himself drawn to her red eyes. It was quite exotic. He coughed and flipped up the visor of the helmet. The air oxygen mask had been ripped from his face when she had saved his life.

Smiley told her, "Thank you for saving my life," as he saw the Lancer slam into the ground and burn like the fires of hell itself. It then exploded as the flames reached the unused ordnance and cooked them off. His plane was nothing but irrecoverable scrap.

The pilot had said something to her. Though she did not understand the Acturan language, body language and tone of voice told her the story. He was thanking her for saving him. It was quit adorable.

"He is kind of cute with that boyish look," came a sly voice in the back of head, "Why don't you take him home? He could have useful intel." She could only smile internally at this. Carefully, she reached the ground and set him down. Fate began to turn back to aid her sisters-in-arms when a tugging hand caused her to look back at the pilot. He snapped his heels together at attention and gave her a salute. Smiling, she returned the salute before returning to the heavens to her friends.


	12. All Quiet on the Battlefront

This chapter is a bit of a breather before I try my hand at writing space battles again. Hopefully, it will be less dull than the one in the first chapter. I find it kind of weird how much of the humor in this tends to be either dark or vulgar.

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Chapter 12

All Quiet on the Battlefront

"Art, tell 'em to get the fuck out and surrender, or we'll blow the building sky high with them inside," ordered Hennessey as the two men crouched as there was a pause in the bolts coming from a building. Much of the ground was glassed or molten. However, the side of the building had been chewed up by fire from the platoon's weapons. The lance corporal paused for a moment to think of the words before shouting this to the house. They shouted something back.

"Sarge, they decline," answered Art.

"LT, they decline," he told her over the radio.

"Guns, they decline," said the platoon commander to the vehicle commander.

"Boys, load HE."

The loaders rammed home the shell and propellant before closing the breach. The converted IFV turned around, targeting some part of the structure. The howitzer fired, smashing a massive hole into the building. The building soon collapsed into a cloud of dust. All that was left was shattered masonry, rebar, wood, and bodies. Then came the annoyingly necessary part. The platoon grabbed tanks of fuel and began to pour it on the ruins before setting them alight. Even if the enemies had magical shields, they needed air to breathe.

Even in the day, the city was dark with clouds of smoke. It was a meticulous warfare with artillery and airstrikes turning buildings to shattered, burning ruins. The group continued their advance. Things were going to get more and more deadly as the pressed into shattered ruin of one of their own cities. As they pressed the enemy closer, they would fight harder and harder. This was compounded by how the advancing Acturan forces compressed the enemy into a smaller space. It was ironic, they were saving the city with explosions, bullets, and fires. It was alright, though; they could rebuild it after they had won.

A formation of Lancers flew overhead in a near vertical dive. Hennessey could see the weapons bay doors open and dozens of small bombs drop from each plane. A section of city went up in a storm of bright flashes before choking dust completely obscured it from view. He could feel the force of the bombing in his boots. They were delivering close air support. They would have been level were they doing area bombing.

"Hennessey, get your ass moving. We've got to advance another hundred meters and hold it until we get relieved. If you fuck around and aren't on the ball, we won't all be alive for when we get rotated off the front," yelled Rakas.

"Yes ma'am. I'm hauling ass," returned Hennessey, "You hear that they are making a new model helmet? From what I heard, it's supposed to be a one-piece design and be tougher than our current pots."

"Sounds like an attempt to make a helmet better suited for mass production to me," said Rakas.

"I like my current pot. I don't think a one-piece design would be nearly as comfortable.," said Art as they marched along.

Weapons were trained at the buildings around them as they advanced. The platoon was spread out in a loose Y-formation. Rakas's command squad was in the rear. Henessey's squad was a bit ahead of hers. Lester's squad was to the right and Elric's to the left. The assault gun was in the center. They were relatively isolated because the urban jungle, even shattered as it was, impeded large formations, but friendlies were never supposed to be more than fifty to eighty meters away.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the point. Everything was quiet. The sound of distant guns was still in this area, but all was quiet. Since they were following a road at this point, there were buildings on either side of them. Several were collapsed, burning piles of rubble from the destructive ministrations of the Acturan soldiers.

"Hennessey, Lester, sweep the building to the left. Elric, hold with me down here."

Elric, only distinguishable from the other fully suited up soldiers by the armband showing his name and rank, set his squad and Hennessey's squad outside the door while he checked the door. He then backed up a bit from the door.

"Sergeant, what the hell are you doing?" asked Rakas.

Lester simply ran up to the door and delivered a flying kick before falling down. The door was violently opened and the soldiers filed past while he gave a thumbs up. The platoon was in a good mood. They were to be rotated off the front to some low intensity job like guarding prisoners or loading cargo. It also meant that they could screw around a bit and forget that they were fighting for the survival of their country, at least for a little while.

Lester got back up and entered the building after his botched landing. After a few minutes, Lester hung flung open a window to yell, "Cleared!"

Rakas replied over the radio, "Good job, but save the kicks for when we can afford to goof off."

"Yes ma'am," answered Lester over the radio.

"Good." Now clear out the other building and we'll set up some defensive positions."

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Walking back to friendly lines, Smiley figured, sucked. He would know as it was what he had been doing since around noon yesterday when he'd been shot down. He would have burned to death back there had it not been for that mage.

"Y'know," Smiley decided as he walked forward, "If I ever meet her again in battle and she's in the same position that I was, I'll try to return the favor."

He walked for hours. The city was easy to spot from the clouds of smoke and the glow of the fires. The arty had sure done a number on the section of the city. The forests loomed nearer and he could here the pounding sounds of the artillery. He continued to walk into the forest.

"Hold it, stay where you are!" called someone.

"Alright, Alright. My name is Lieutenant Kyle Alexander, callsign Smiley. I got shot down in a dogfight with a mage yesterday."

"Okay, just follow us Lieutenant Alexander," said a voice. He heard crunching as a fireteam of four Acturan soldiers stepped out. He could see them now, but the active camouflage had made them nearly invisible before they revealed themselves. A quick look told him that the fellow was a Corporal named Yalu.

"Give me a moment Lieutenant. I'll radio back to HQ and you probably get to bunk with us groundpounders for the night," said Corporal Yalu. There was a pause as the soldier radioed the information back to their HQ.

"Alright man, we've got to take you back to base. You mind telling us how you got your flyboy ass shot down?"

"Well, I was flying when we were ordered to intercept some mages incoming. We went for a beyond visual range kill with Griffons at first, but that did jack shit, so we closed. A mage popped into the formation and took a swing at my commanders plane with -and I shit you not-a giant scythe made of lightning- and then took a swing at me. So then I fought her for a bit. Bitch kept shooting down my fucking missiles, but there was this really awesome moment where I reflexively fired the cannons and she ended up with a burst of 20mm to the face right as she teleported in front of me. I dropped my airbrake and tried to shove a missile up her ass-"

"But Lieutenant Alexander, not all girls are into anal, y'know," cracked one of the soldiers, "You need to show some consideration and ask nicely before you fire off your warhead up her ass. I can understand why she would be pissed and shoot you down. Surprise buttsex just isn't the way."

Smiley laughed, "Good one. I was totally asking for that. The craziest part about was, when I tried to break off because none of my weapons were doing shit, she fired off a giant beam. Fucking thing blinded me and I lost control. The strangest thing is, as I plummeted into a death spin, she smashed the cockpit and grabbed me out. She must have wanted to take me prisoner, but changed her mind since she put me down."

"You lucky son-of-a-bitch. Could you give me a better description of the chick? I think I know who you may have been facing," asked Yalu.

"Uh. She was a blonde with pale skin. Her long-ass hair reached down her back. Red eyes. Her barrier jacket was like a black trenchcoat with a white cape. This ringing any bells?"

"You lucky son-of-a-bitch. You lucky fucking son-of-a-bitch," said Yalu.

"I don't quite get it," said Smiley.

"You just got into a dogfight with Enforcer Fate Testarossa-Harlaown, the second best TSAB ace. The only ace better than her on the TSAB side is Nanoha Takamachi, the fucking White Devil herself. Not only did you get into a dogfight with her, you fucking survived. You've got something to be proud of, my man."

"The name is now ringing a few bells. Wasn't she one of the main TSAB mages involved in the whole Scaglietti incident?"

"Bullseye."

"Wait, isn't she commonly seen with Nanoha Takamachi?"

"Yeah, as of recently anyway."

"Holy fucking shit! My squadron commander had to fight Nanoha alone!"

"I must say, ho~ly shit. Hope he made it out okay like you did."

"I'm more worried about the new guy in our squadron. Not quite a replacement for the girl we lost in that opening furball, but he's a nice enough guy."

"Yeah. It sucks. I lost a few good men on that first night," said Yalu.

"I feel your pain man. How's it been going on the ground?"

"We're winning. I'm probably off to the city soon to rotate to city fighting. You seem like a pretty cool guy, Lieutenant Alexander," said the squad leader before he turned to his squad, "This here motherfucker fought the second best TSAB mage. I think this here motherfucker should get a round of drinks on us tonight."

There was a chorus of happy agreement to their squad leader's suggestion. Did it really matter that the guy was a fighter jock when beer was involved? Certainly not. There was much back patting as the soldiers walked through the forest and traded their stories. Everyone had stories about basic that everyone else could relate to because everyone went through a few weeks of basic before they could even think of moving to something like flight school. It was perhaps not the best system but it did smooth out a lot of rivalry betweens services and gave everyone a certain esprit de corps.

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"Gentlemen, we have reports that several high ranking TSAB mages are in the city. You have a new secondary objective: take them out as targets of opportunity. In this case, your survival takes precedence. The information that we have received confirms our suspicions that at least two of the four are Captain Fate Testarossa-Harlaown and Captain Nanoha Takamachi. The descriptions of the other two match Ancient Belkan mages, assume that they are Lieutenants Signum and Vita from the Book of Darkness incident. This is unconfirmed, however."

"Acknowledged, sir, but, with all due respect, wasn't that part of our mission to begin with?" asked Jay.

"It was but given who we are and might be dealing with, I'd prefer your safety to take precedence in this case."

"Glad you care about us so much. We getting closer to finding and killing General Shikinami. We just got some information about his command center from some grunt we interrogated," said Jay, glancing at a beaten TSAB officer with a blank look in his eyes.

"Did you mindfuck him?"

"Yes sir. We did physical interrogation first and then promised to mindfuck him if he didn't comply. He didn't and a man is only as good as his word, so we ripped the info out of his head. We were just about to kill him when you called."

"Carry on then."

"Yes sir."

The Dragon nodded to Rask, who stabbed his combat knife into the mage's throat. There was a unique technique to it that they had been taught. If you could slow your strike to get into the shield before snapping out like a snake, you could do something to a mage even with an active barrier jacket. It was a basic part of close quarters drill taught to everyone since the TSAB was a big potential enemy. It was a skill that took a long time to learn. In this close quarters battle, the troops were having plenty of practice to master this fine skill. The Assault Troopers had seen it practiced by the regular troops in the aftermath of when they helped hold the line. It was good that the new part of bayonet drill was working out in the field.

"You think he was lying when he told us what they knew about us Assault Troopers?" asked Rask.

"I dunno, but the info on us is really locked down tight. It doesn't really surprise me that all this corpse over here knew was that we're an Acturan black-ops unit composed entirely of mages," answered Jay, "Wait a moment for me to burn the body."

Points of red light glowed dimly from behind the mask and body burst into flames. The air was filled with the scent of burning flesh. Their helmets filtered it out. It wouldn't have bothered them anyway; they'd already killed enough people even in their training that such smells didn't bother them anymore.

"I was thinking, Shank, do you remember your first kill? What you did just now brings me back. Anyway, which kill stands out the most to you?" asked Jay.

"Lemme think, probably the time when we infiltrated the rebels. I ended up seducing one of the rebel girls then I ended up knifing her at the end of the mission. I don't take joy in killing. In fact, I cradled her close and comforted her like I would a child as I slit her throat to ease her passing. What stands out to me was the deer in headlights look she had as the steel first slit her throat and then the relaxed look she had as she died in my arms," said Rask.

"The one that stands out to me," said Mary, "was when I took my first sniper kill. It was against this rich actor who secretly supported the rebels. So, the guy is walking into a movie theater for the premier showing of one of his films. I'm about a hundred meters away. I was told to make an example of what happens to those supporting the anti-government forces and avoid a clean kill, making him suffer. Anyway, my first shot shatters his kneecap. They didn't know where I was because I was using subsonic ammo in a suppressed rifle and putting up a mild illusion. I put my next shot into his other leg. He's crawling on the ground, screaming for help. This is when I use a minor mind-meld to listen to his thoughts so I can hit even if he makes some sudden movements. I can feel some phantom pain in my legs. My next round goes into his stomach. I can vaguely feel that. I have to end this quickly and I only have five shots in my rifle before I need to reload. I'm feeling somewhat nice and put a rounds through his lower spine so he can't feel the next shot. I cut the mind meld and put a round through his femoral artery. He bleed out in seconds."

"The one I remember most was when we did that raid soon after we were formed into a team. Some of the rebels were holding a school hostage. I smashed right through the door and a hail of automatic gunfire because there was no way in hell that we would give in to their demands. One of them was about to murder one of the children and I put a burst of rounds through his face, practically decapitating him. I still smile as I recall the look on his face when I burst in in full body armor with a machine gun and a few belts of ammo around my neck. You guys all have these dark stories, but the one that stands out the most to me was that time," said McCloud.

The others chuckled.

"That was a good time. Since there weren't any reporters for this until afterwards, we ended up rounding up the kids and watching them," said Jay, "It was kind of awkward though because we had to stuff the bodies elsewhere. Brute, remember how you tried to clean up the blood from the wall and ended up just smearing it."

The big machine gunner chuckled, causing the belts of ammo he had to rattle around a bit.

"The babysitting bit was pretty fun and surreal all the same. It was us, a bunch of scary looking guys in armor and facemasks watching over a bunch of elementary school kids," said Rask, "The funniest bit was when they realized that you were a girl."

"Oh yeah. That was fun. I was like 'Well hello kids, we're a group of super-special elite soldiers. We're not allowed to tell you our names or show you our faces, so I'll give our nicknames. I'm Hawkeye, the designated marksgirl, over there with the assault rifle is our leader Dragon, the big guy who burst in with the machine gun is Brute, and the guy with the shotgun and knife is our hand to hand expert Shank,'" reminisced Mary.

"Good times. That's probably the best mission we've ever done. Stuff like that really gives a sense that we are doing good out there," said Jay.

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"Admiral, we're detecting inbound ships transferring into the space. They're coming in a series of battle lines."

"Sound the alarm. I have more ships than when I started. How many ships do they have?"

"It's hard to tell with all the space-time disturbance, but I'd say around 150 ships. The formation looks Acturan."

"This is Admiral Nimitz to all TSAB warships. Prepare for action."


	13. Where the Black Soul Dwells

Guess who's back. Back again... I don't normally listen to rap, but there is just something about Eminem's "Without Me" that I find enjoyable. Anyway, the big space battle has finally come. Please review. Feedback is nice. I want to know when I fuck up so I can fix it.

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**Chapter 13**

**Where the Black Soul Dwells**

"All ships, present ventral shields to the enemy. Fire a spread of submunition missiles. Gold Force hold course. Green Force, begin burn to lunar orbit. Red Force, break off to the left and begin burning bombardment," ordered the commander of the assembled Acturan Deep Space Fleet, Fleet Admiral Lokan. Magic displays projected three dimensional images of the battle to him as he was strapped into an acceleration couch. Ships could pull a few gees when turning. The old man with his white hair and neat beard had the look of a wet navy admiral. However, he had the gangly limbs of a longtime spacer. Through the currently opened helmet, he chomped down on a cigar.

"Sir, are you ever going to light up?" asked an ensign on the bridge.

"Naw. The regulations won't let me. Hell, I don't think I've lit up in the past twenty years."

"Mr. Spiro, have we completed the roll?" asked the Admiral to his helmsman.

"Not quite sir. The boosters should fire to halt our rotation soon enough."

The Admiral turned back to surveying the display. His ships were in various small battle lines of four to six ships with a sixty kilometer distance seperating the stern of one ship from the bow of another. This formed a wall of battle that negated the area effect of the Arc-en-Ciel. Because of this, an Arc-en-Ciel shot could only remove a single ship at a time if it even hit the widely spaced formation at extreme ranges. That was not to say that the enemy was having trouble finding them, the emissions of their main plasma drives could be spotted with a Mark I eyeball from thousands of kilometers. The drives could be picked up for several astronomical units around. Even with a lack of stealth, space battles were often long slugging matches at extreme ranges with both missiles and gunnery. Only the TSAB used a carrier aircraft analogue in the form of their mages.

Another set of thrusters fired to steady the ships. The covers of missile tubes popped open and a cold launch propelled the missiles out a short distance before the main engines kicked in and sent them on a one way burn to the TSAB formation. Shots from TSAB buster cannons were flying on their own one way trip. This highlighted a major difference. While the TSAB relied on buster cannons for their long range fire, the Acturans relied on missiles for their long range punch. It was for simple reasons. A fire and forget missile could be launched as long as sensors could see the enemy and you could see enemies from very far away; however, a mana torpedo began to lose cohesion in the mana particles after a while and it relied on the ship for guidance signals. At long ranges, the lag from the information returning to the ship and then the course corrections sent from the ship to the torpedo could take up to a second. These inherent disadvantages forced the mana torpedoes to be used at medium and close ranges.

It would take several minutes for the missiles to reach their target. The busters traveled faster and hit the Acturan ships perpendicular to their original orientation. The curved shields flared a translucent gold as the energy was absorbed. The open radiators on the other side glowed a brighter red as they struggled to radiate the heat away. This was a design flaw that the Acturans had yet to fix. Their shields generated heat when hit which needed to be radiated away from the ship. A ship's crew would die of heatstroke within minutes of the ship did not have a way to radiate it away. Heat sinks could slow down this time. These mechanical limitations practically let Acturan tactics write themselves. Ships would form up in walls of battle so that they could radiate heat out the other side. This naturally led to Acturan space warfare tactics emphasizing the broadside which maximized firepower while giving more space to radiate heat away on the other side. Since there was no horizon to make a carrier remotely useful, the battleship dominated warfare in space.

As the missiles neared their targets, some were blown apart by fire. The rest, however, fired explosive bolts to reveal the rows upon rows of tiny kinetic kill missiles. Explosive charges propelled the storm of tiny missiles outward at higher speeds. What made them so dangerous was the swarm LAI that the missiles had. Each swarm of hundreds of micro missiles released from a single missile. While the computers on each individual missile were quite modest, they communicated with each other to become something more than the sum of their parts. Each swarm communicated with the other swarms to form a plan of action to best hurt the enemy.

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/LEGION1/ QUERY: What is the best means of completing out mission?

/LEGION2/ RESPONSE: We should first take out the mages screening the ships.

/LEGION3/ RESPONSE: The shields should be focused on next.

/LEGION4/ ADDITION: Focus on the big ships. Once their shields are down, focus on destroying Arc-en-Ciel emplacements.

/ALL LEGION/ ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Plan understood.

/LEGION1/ STATEMENT: May our sacrifice bring death to our foes. It has been an honor, LEGION.

/ALL LEGION/ EXCLAMATION: For the Republic!

Swarms of micro missiles stopped their drifting and began to burn toward their targets. The screening swarms went ahead. Mages fired at the tiny machines but they were incredibly difficult to hit across the vast distances of space. The amount of missiles destroyed began to grow as they grew near. However, at close ranges, the screening swarms began the terminal burn of their one way trip and the ability of missiles to endure more acceleration than a human grew apparent. Mages tried to dodge the intelligent missiles, but they gave their lives, ramming the mages at speeds that any explosive would be superfluous. The missile swarms gave their lives for their country as intelligent weapons.

With the path to the big ships cleared, the remaining swarms began their own terminal burns. Fire tore holes into the swarms. With their higher acceleration and lower mass, they were able to slam into the ponderously maneuvering battleships. Their shields flared as the swarm missiles slammed into them. They were happy. They were accomplishing the task that they had been made for. And they did it well. Amazingly, the thousands of micro missiles managed to tear down the shields of one of the battleships. However, in this, there was only one swarm left, LEGION1.

/LEGION1/ EMOTIONAL STATEMENT: I am alone. My comrades are gone. They have been killed by the enemy or given their lives so that I may have this opportunity.

/LEGION1/ ASSESSMENT: The situation has changed and I can only destroy one emplacement. I must complete the mission.

/LEGION1/ EMOTIONAL EXCLAMATION: For the Republic!

The final swarm of the missile spread used it's remaining fuel to smash into the emplacement of an Arc-en-Ciel cannon, turning the emplacement into scrap that would never fire again. Atmosphere leaked from the wrecked area and all sorts of things came out from shards of metal to soundlessly screaming men and women. In its final moments, LEGION1 was both sad and happy. It was happy that it could be of some service in its final moments and sad that it could not do all it wanted. All the fears and doubts vanished when it slammed into the emplacement, taking a little bit of its intelligence and self awareness with each missile destroyed. In the end only a tiny animal mix of pleasure and fear remained of LEGION1 in the last missile to impact. Then there was nothing. The friendly camaraderie of the missile swarms as they communicated back and forth was gone.

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The plasma drives of thirty-two ships flared as Green Force began their burn. The warships of the Time-Space Administration Bureau began to form up into several layered arrowhead formations. The plasma drives of another twenty-eight warships flared as Red Force began their burn. The plasma drives of the remaining sixty warships flared with the light of a contained sun as Gold Force began a twisting upward burn to rake the dorsal surfaces of the TSAB warships. The TSAB warships generally had narrow frontal and side profiles at the price of having large top profile. In comparison, DRA warships had traded a small frontal and top profile for a larger side profile. This larger side profile did let them have a more powerful broadside better able to project a greater volume of coilgun fire.

Hundreds of turrets rotated to point toward the bright points of light of the maneuvering TSAB warships. They discharged at once. Had their been any air in space to conduct noise, it would have been an incredibly loud roar if only from the friction between the slugs and the air. There would have been a sound like thousands of nearby thunderclaps as the hypersonic slugs broke the sound barrier. The barrage would have been apocalyptic and godlike. Since there was no air in space, the only sounds were the faint sounds of turrets traversing and the low hum as the massive recoil was absorbed. The ships were shifted back from the recoil. Many slugs simply whipped past ships, never finding their target. Space gunnery was not perfect and mostly boiled down to saturating a general area of a target with enough projectiles that some of them hit. Those that hit caused walls of solid blue light to flare was the energy was absorbed and the projectiles

The TSAB forces responded likewise, firing busters at the DRA warships. The golden barriers of the Actural shields flared up. TSAB battleships charged up their Arc-en-Ciel cannons to fire them, each utterly annihilating Acturan ships with every hit. Even so, some of them missed in the long range gunnery duel to fly off into space until they dissipated or destroyed everything within a hundred kilometers of whatever they hit.

"All ships of Red and Gold Forces, fire a missile spread. Half and half mix of submunition and nuclear shaped charge," ordered the fleet admiral.

More covers opened up, exposing missiles to the void of space. They were launched out a bit before the main engines ignited. Coilgun fire erupted in a steady stream as it was up to Acturan squadron leaders to designate an enemy ship to target and fire upon it until it was destroyed or disabled. Glittering points of light of the coilgun slugs flew in across the void, most missing until the steady stream of broadside fire could be lead into TSAB warships. Shields flared until they were shattered and the slugs forcibly gutted the ships.]

The TSAB ships fought back just as hard and buster shots smashed golden shields to ruin. A ship with it's shields down took a buster shot to the missile tubes which set the fuel alight. This lead to a most austere sight, a warship set ablaze in space. The liquid fuel rockets did contain an oxidizer and the breathable atmosphere of the ship added plenty of fuel to the fire. Other ships were turned into a twisted sculptures as shots breached the magnetic containment fields of their plasma drives. Other shots wrecked turrets or simply grazed ships, leaving long battle scars of molten plating. Nonetheless, the Acturan shielded warships retained their excellent compartmentalization and redundant systems. Even when shots smashed through armor plating and atmosphere began to vent from the ships, these did not kill the warships. However, the TSAB warships had effectively unlimited ammunition for their weapons. Outliers aside, no warship died quickly. The fired until every last system was rendered inoperable. In most cases, every last member of the crew had to die before the ship was rendered inoperable.

xxxxxxxxx

Jason Everet, Spaceman, was suited up in the cruiser _Light Bearer. _He wasn't particularly tall, actually a little bit on the short side with mousy brown hair. He was not alone. He was with several other spacers in a damage control team.

"Damage Control Team 6, get up to the dorsal gundeck. We have a hull breach and it isn't automatically being sealed off."

The team jumped up to the ceiling and began to run along it before flipping into the next deck. As they came to the gun deck, they sealed the helmets on the suits with a hiss of air. From the direction of the wind, it was obvious where the hit was coming from. The gun deck was devoid of people. They usually were; the turrets were aimed by the ships LAI and the turrets autoloaded from vast magazines of coilgun slugs. They hustled into another compartment, closing the hatch behind them. The failed hatch was in the next compartment. They moved forward through the cramped interior filled with turret rings and ammunition being fed from cylindrical racks into the big guns themselves by autoloader carousels. A few rounds drifted into the breached compartment. As the team neared, they could see why the procedure had failed; a flying piece of steel had lodged itself in the mechanism. The atmosphere was almost entirely gone now. Thankfully, they had rebreathers. The damage control team floated through the microgravity to close the hatch, but the metal shard made this impossible.

"I'm going to go cut it off," said Jacob, pulling out his plasma cutter.

"Be quick. We don't want to loose all the atmosphere," answered his team commander, Warrant Officer Reynolds.

"Aye, sir," said Everet, planting the magnetic soles of his boots onto the deck. The plasma cutter was rather like a nailgun in terms of how it functioned. You depressed a pressure sensitive plate onto the surface to be cut, dialed a yield, and pulled the trigger. In spite of the tool's dangerous sounding name, it was a relatively safe procedure, as much as anything involving power tools could be called safe. Everet did just that and the small plasma burst sheared off the piece of metal. He deftly grabbed the spinning piece and put it into his scrap bag. You didn't want sharp pieces of metal floating around on even a merchant vessel but especially not on a warship.

He couldn't see what happened next as a brilliant flash blinded him as it ripped through the compartment. It was all he could do to avoid puking in his helmet as he was sent spinning and tumbling. Then there was blackness.

"Where am I?" wondered Jacob groggily, trying to clear his head. He opened his eyes and realized an important fact: he was freefalling through space. His spacer training kicked in and he reoriented himself so that he was no longer spinning. Jacob cast a look around and saw a shattered ship. It had been split apart by multiple buster shots breaking through the shields. It was his _Light Bearer_. Turrets drifted off from the ship and the molten holes where a barrage beams had split it apart.

Jacob knew he needed to calm down. He would probably break before the rebreather did, so air was not really a problem. It would take several weeks before the carbon dioxide levels became dangerous. He checked his survival pack. The nutrition hypos were unbroken. They wouldn't fill his stomach, but they could keep him alive for seven days. The water bags would also keep him alive for a week. The internal recycling systems would reduce the need for water, so he probably had fifteen days before death was a sure thing. He had his propulsion module, which resembled a strange combination of break-open shotgun and light mortar. Jacob also had his service pistol which could be used for propulsion in a pinch. He had several signal flares and a radio distress beacon. The beacon could continuously run for five days.

He was floating away from the Acturan wall of battle. Space survival training had drilled into his head for him not to use the propulsion module until a rescue shuttle came because of the limited amount of propulsion shells. Once rescue arrived, he would then use the shells to maneuver to a the waiting spacer performing rescue EVA.

In the meantime, all he could do was watch the fireworks of the battle and pray nothing hit him. He saw the beams play across the void, it was an amazing light show. As the beams were spectacular, the coilguns were comparatively subtle. The only sign that they had fired were the faintly glowing slugs themselves and the faint glow of the coils of the guns, which glowed with heat from the massive electrical current necessary to propel the slugs at extreme speeds. Over the fifteen meters of the barrel, every slug had to accelerate from zero to fifteen kilometers per second. Occasionally, he saw a bright flash of light from the TSAB side, where a ship had been destroyed. It was rather surreal to watch the calamitous exchange of firepower as a mere man.

"Truly humans are the undisputed progenies of warfare," thought Jacob as he drifted through space, now oriented comfortably, "That sounded really poetic. That's unusual for me. I might as well roll with that and write something about this. This is really a battle for the history books. It's been almost a decade since the entire Deep Space Fleet sortied as a task force."

Right now, Jacob was content to sit back and enjoy his front row seat to the apocalyptic fury of the battle. If any weapon hit him, he would be finished right there and then. He could activate his distress beacon, but no ship would send out a rescue shuttle in the heat of battle. The battle would probably be over in a day or two. He checked his watch, an antique clockwork design given to him by his father. It was 8:48 in the morning; they'd been fighting for nearly eleven hours straight. Thankfully, there were supply ships in the wall of battle for ships to restock on ammo.

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Stephen Camaro sat back into his seat on the bridge of the Bureau heavy cruiser _Lucius_. Magic gave a panoramic view of the space from the bridge, not that it helped much when you couldn't see your opponents. Another volley of shots from his ship flew off into the void toward where the sensors told him the enemy was. Occasionally, there would be a flash as an enemy ship was destroyed.

This was the reality of space warfare: long, boring moments of waiting interspersed with moments of sheer terror as the coilgun slugs started to focus on your own ship. You could only pray that the enemies would be destroyed by your own fire and that your shields would hold up. Evasive maneuvers were nice, but the stream of slugs would still follow you until either you or the enemy died. They only prolonged your death, perhaps giving you enough time to fire a volley across the void, praying it would connect. And so, he fired his weapons off into the distance praying that it would not be him next.


	14. Never Bow Down

My aunt just died today, so don't expect a quick update. I've got shit to do and a funeral to go to. Thankfully, I was able to see her and tell her just how much I loved her before she died. I cried manly tears.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Never Bow Down**

"...And in a glorious victory for the Democratic Republic of Acturus, the Deep Space Fleet sortied in its entirety to destroy the fleet orbiting the world of Kale. The Acturan people stand tall in the face of the oppressive invaders. The corrupt government can't even protect their own ground forces. With their new refit, the fleet smashed aside the TSAB force, widely considered to be the finest space force. It looks like they are now the ones on the defensive. It serves them right for attacking the Democratic Republic of Acturus," came the news broadcast over the radio.

"That's the first good news since the war began," commented Hennessey as he paused from working on his paperwork. He was sitting cross legged on the floor. The other squad leaders were doing similar things. It was one of the squad leader meetings. They usually just involved filling out paperwork, talking about what was up with their squads, and killing some time in LT's office at wherever they were bunking.

"Can you believe the amount of planes getting shot down lately. Apparently it's only by a few mages running hit and run strikes. We've lost somewhere around two full squadrons of planes. Fuckers are trying to regain air superiority," said Lester. Hennessey looked up from his paperwork to the younger blond man with his prominent nose and narrow face. There were dark rings under his eyes and he looked a fair bit older than twenty years of age. They all looked a bit older and more mature than the teenagers and twenty-somethings they were. This did not count for Elric, the good-natured, tall, and broad-shouldered man in his early thirties.

"Rumors has it that, the mages are none other than Nanoha and Fate," added Hennessey, "I'm not sure if I believe it; I think there would be a good deal more destruction if it was them. How do you think those Assault Troopers are doing out there in the ruins?"

"Dunno, don't care," responded Rakas, "I'd like for them to do whatever their mission was, but we only met them for a few minutes. I'd rather that they live, but their deaths wouldn't make me feel guilty. Say, Elric, how has your grandmother been?"

"I'm worried about her. She's in the hospital with pneumonia for the past few weeks. I only found this out the day before we were thrown into the grinder. I feel real bad that I'd forgotten about her until now. Do you have a scroll handy?"

"We've been in combat for these past few weeks. You're human too. Just borrow mine," said Rakas, tossing him a narrow but nonetheless blocky plastic and metal object. He deftly caught it and pulled part of it out, revealing a paper thin smart material held rigid by a metal frame. He pushed a button and it lit up.

"You need to log yourself on first, Rakas," stated Lester after glancing at the screen for a moment.

"Sure thing," she responded, and the platoon commander typed onto the touch sensitive material before handing it back to the veteran sergeant.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

The big guy set himself to typing out an e-mail for his grandmother. The room returned to a comfortable silence as the four returned to writing or typing.

"Elric sort of reminded me of something, you don't really talk about your family, Hennessey," commented Lester.

"I have a large family, I'm the youngest of seven. My parents were always out working to feed us. My dad was a factory worker and my mother was a secretary. We kinda' took care of one another. I've always loved my family dearly, but I'm not really that close to them. The Henesseys are scattered around Thalass, mostly in the city of Mardik."

"I've always suspected you were from Mardik. You've got a slight accent," mentioned Rakas.

"It was far more pronounced when I was younger. I then went to the planetary capital for my nursing degree. I got an awesome scholarship to the medical university. Without that, I would have been too poor to go to even the local med schools. I'm not rich, so med school was something new. Practically all my class came from rich or at least comparatively rich -not that it would be difficult to be richer than my folks- families. All great, nice guys and girls, but it was awkward when they asked what car I drove. I did not know how to drive a car, much less own one. I'd used public transit all my life. Again, wonderful people and I made quite a few friends including the kids and grandkids of some government officials. That never got between us having a great time."

"That's seriously awesome! Why don't you tell us this shit?" exclaimed Lester.

"I just did," pointed out Hennessey himself, "Fun fact, do you know why the government reacted even more viciously than usual after the gas attacks?"

"Sure, why?" asked Rakas.

"Many of their relatives were involved in responding and treating the victims while getting shot at. That's when it became personal."

"Those fuckers didn't think. All they did was cause the populace neutral to the republic to turn against them. They just inspired more resistance in the people rather than fear. Wait a moment, hasn't everyone here been shot at by those fucktards?" said Rakas.

Everyone in the room raised their hands.

"Can I get a hell yeah? I mean it is pretty fitting since we all already survived one war. Wanna do it again?"

"Hell yeah," chorused the squad leaders, even the normally reserved Elric.

"Watch my shit, you guys, and don't fuck with my paperwork. It's a bitch. I'm going out to grab some booze to celebrate this. Well fuck me, it's pretty ridiculous that we never really noticed this even if we've all mentioned it."

"See ya,' LT. What'cha planning on getting?" asked Lester.

"I was planning on whiskey or beer. Any requests?"

"Sounds good to me."

"No problem here."

"Sure, why not."

"Alright. Don't touch my shit or I will rip your head off and defecate down your throat. If I am in a particularly bad mood, I might then violate your eye socket with a strap-on. But I know you wouldn't do that, right?" warned Rakas in a sweet singsong tone.

"... You have a strap-on?" inquired Hennessey with some confusion.

"No."

The door closed as Rakas left the office.

"Dude, the fuck kind of question was that?" asked Lester.

"It was a legitimate question," pointed out Elric.

"You were just laughing behind that calm mask of yours," accused Lester.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

xxxxxxxxx

"Is this a perfect opportunity or a perfect opportunity?" whispered Hawkeye rhetorically as she surveyed the makeshift TSAB command center in the rubble. General Shikinami was standing and talking to one Nanoha Takamachi. The assault troopers were crouched behind yet another wrecked building. If sniping from range didn't work, then Brute would saturate the area with Barrier Jacket piercing rounds from his machine gun. Dragon was spotting for her. Shank was covering the other members of their team. They were all actively suppressing their magic to blend in with the background. It was both easier and more difficult in this situation because of all the mana particles saturating the area from the fighting, but they were trained to match ambient levels so as not to appear as an area suspiciously devoid of magic in a magic heavy environment.

"Who should I kill first, Shikinami or Takamachi," murmured Hawkeye to her team commander.

"The general, killing him is our primary objective."

"I understand," replied the armored woman as she continued to look through the scope, "Taking-"

The wall exploded into a cloud of dust just before the sniper could fire. The four Acturan mages channeled magic into their limbs to haul ass with superhuman speed from the building. The blasted landscape began to explode around them in flashes of multicolored light from the spells. It was soon covered in a layer of dust and smoke. A button was tapped on the sides of their helmets to activate the thermal vision which easily cut through the dust. They discovered two mages going straight for them, an older one with pink hair and sword and one that looked to be prepubescent with a fuck-off sized hammer.

Shank immediately leaped into the fray with the bayonet affixed to his shotgun. If it had been quieter, then the crackle of electricity could be heard around him. He used magic to augment his already excellent close quarters combat abilities by using lightning to speed up his movements to an order of magnitude beyond the human norm. Magic was required to reinforce his body so that the stresses did not rip his muscles into uselessness or burn out his nerve endings. Even so, it was dangerous to use and he could not repair his body faster than the technique damaged it. He knocked aside a sword slash before jumping over the incoming hammer and around the little girl before slamming a hard blow into her back with the steel butplate of the shotgun.

"Bring it, bitches," he said cockily, even if some rational part of his mind knew they didn't understand his language.

The two enemy mages disengaged temporarily, with the older one saying something before jumping off to the rest of his team. Rask was about to double back to assist his team, since warfare was a team sport. Loners just got themselves killed, but a cohesive group was always stronger. This was rudely interrupted when the small girl in her frilly red dress slammer her hammer in front of him. He was barely able to dodge, even with his enhanced reflexes. In what seemed like an agonizingly slow time to the Acturan elite soldier, he brought the barrel around, getting her in the ghost rings and pulled the trigger. The expanding cloud of shot busted through the defenses of her barrier jacket and grazed her arm. Rask pumped the action while holding down the trigger and the gun fired instantly without a separate trigger pull, such was the beauty of the Acturan combat shotgun. The follow up blast ripped into her arm, rather than grazing it as the previous shot had done. The blood oozing from her arm did not appear to adversely affect her strength as the hammer swung around faster than he could move and knocked him off his feet and into the air. His shields took the force of the blow. The girl flew after him, hammer in hand. Even after getting hit into the air, he pumped the gun and fired several shots from the hip. They missed and he built up the lightning magic which began to visibly flash across his body before gathering into the bayonet.

"_Todliche Strafe!" _yelled the girl as she swung her warhammer toward him. Shank roared as he thrust the magic enhanced weapon to meet the Device. The two met with great force as the magic put into the attacks fought with each other. Fire and lightning crackled between the two. She put up a barrier that shoved him away and into the rubble. Rask hit the ground rolling and popped back up, now with a fistful of lightning. There was nothing quite like a fistful of lightning. Winds surrounded the girls legs as she closed even faster to smash him with her hammer. Lightning flashed across the distance instantly but it was no match for the defensive abilities of her barrier jacket. Rask curled his hand into a fist. He wouldn't be able to dodge this attack. He punched the head of the hammer with his fistful of lightning. In his other hand he thrust forward the bayonet, using the precise control he had obtained to get into the jacket before ramming the spike home into her side. She gritted past the pain to force his hand and then swung the other end of the hammer into the side of his helmet, cracking it. A stomp on his upper thigh and push kick sent him flying back once more. The shield had taken most of the force, but it was still going to leave a mark.

She said something and the shaft reciprocated into itself before magic enveloped the head, changing it into a rocket propelled drill on a stick. The rocket ignited and the weapon arced lethally toward his face. The drill bored right through his shields and wrecked the side of his helmet before smashing into his shoulder, shredding it in a bloody spray as the drill ripped apart his flesh. His left arm was useless now. Rask applied magic to jump dozens of feet into the air, tossing aside his now useless helmet.

Using magic to express the meaning in pictures and emotion he conveyed a simple idea, "No enemy unmasks an Assault Trooper and lives."

"Bring it," was the message conveyed back to him.

For her part, Vita was fired up. This was the first time she had come face to face with an Acturan mage and he was definitely a challenge, but nothing she couldn't beat. He was probably the most challenging opponent she had faced in a while.

The Acturan cocked his weapon with one hand, and Vita couldn't help but snort at the primitiveness of his weapon. Real mages used devices. Still, the projectiles had ripped through her barrier jacket like it wasn't even there. She needed to be careful against the fanatical soldier. His face was pale, probably from spending too much time under body concealing armor. His mousy brown hair was cut high and tight, and his eyes were a light blue, now glowing white with power. He had a lean, angular face which gave him an almost skeletal look. Blood dripped along his arm. His body was now growing more difficult to see as the active camouflage now had time to change to blend in. Her Acturan opponent fired and she lunged forward.

xxxxxxxxx

One of the two mages that been delayed by Shank's actions pushed forward against the rest of the team. Jay and McCloud fired off bursts of suppressive fire toward her, bullet tearing through nothing but air. Brute even fired a grenade from the underbarrel launcher, but it exploded in the distance, nowhere near close enough to hurt the mage. Even as they did this, magic attacks were raining down from the sky. Dragon switched to fully automatic fire and let loose. The way it was going, he wouldn't be able to take down the mage before she chopped him in half. Flames began to erupt in a fiery aura around his body. A dull red glow could be seen from where his eyes would be.

As she came close, a barrier immediately stopped her before throwing her back. Brute walked ahead, casually ignoring the fire as he loaded a new belt into his machine gun. He chambered the first round with that heavy mechanical sound.

"I've got this, Dragon."

"Good luck, Brute."

"Thank you, sir."

The big soldier popped the joints in his neck with an audible cracking noise.

"I'd rather not hurt a girl, but I think I'll need to make an exception for you," said Brute, using magic to convey his message, as points of green light could be seen from outside the visor, "I'd prefer that you leave us alone so we can do our job, but I assume that you are under orders to stop our mission. I'm honestly quite interested in fighting you. I'm more of a long range fighter, not to the extent that our sniper is, and you seem to be a close range fighter like my friend fighting over there. I can't tell you much about who I am, but I can say that you can call me Brute."

"You can call me Signum. Would I be correct in assuming that you specialize in barrier magic like another mage I know?"

"Indeed you would."

"Shall we begin since our goals are in mutual conflict?"

"I have no problem, Miss Signum."

Signum launched forward, loading a cartridge into her sword. It was wreathed in flames. Brute lined her up in the sights and squeezed the trigger which spat twenty bullets every second. It fired quickly enough that individual shots could not be heard as they merged into one long roar. The flying mage dodged around the streams of bullets. Barriers were brought into existence before they flew toward her, slicing everything in their path with infinitely sharp edges. Signum dodged the flying shields. Another barrier came into being as she swung her sword at the Acturan mage. She couldn't tell if her opponent was sweating or worried under the armor. She felt the magic gathering around and dodged another barrier coming to slice her apart. He fired another burst which only ripped into her ponytail.

"You are quite good. I'm impressed that you could detect and dodge that," conveyed McCloud in a friendly manner at odds with his murderous actions.

"Not bad yourself. You must have a lot of practice with your barrier manipulation magic."

"I do try to be humble."

"I'll have to apologize if you are unable to do this, but I think I'll take this battle into the sky."

"Not a problem."

With that, Brute formed a barrier under him and used his magic enhanced strength to jump from barrier to barrier after Signum. A cartridge was ejected from her sword with a hiss of steam as it transformed into a long snaking length of blades attached to chains. Barrier appeared and disappeared in front of him, as the blades merely glanced off. Flames began to erupt from the blades, engulfing the Acturan mage in a hellish fireball. When it was finished, her opponent was in a box of his own barriers, breathing heavily from the strain of using such magic. The barrier reoriented before flying toward her as he opened up with a stream of bullets from his gun.

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye and Dragon were going around to attack the mage fighting Shank when she was unaware. Brute could handle himself in battle. Suddenly, the sniper pushed him aside as a stream of yellow blasts struck where they had just been. They looked up to see yet another mage overhead. They knew who she was instantly upon seeing her; she was Fate Testarossa-Harloan.

"I'll take her, Dragon. Go out and kill the general."

Nodding, the team leader began to sprint toward.

"Alright, you bitch, come and get some!" growled Hawkeye bringing up the rifle. Unlike the others, there was no glow of power in her eyes. However, had her helmet been off, the glowing mark of her opened Third Eye could be seen. It allowed her to use battle precognition. It allowed her to see partly into the stream of causality to predict her enemy's actions. Without looking, she raised her rifle and fired where her precognition told her where the enemy would go next.

Fate dodged the bullet as the Assault Trooper worked the bolt on her rifle. Another shot passed right next to her, supernaturally accurate. Her next barrage of magic attacks cratered the ground where her landbound opponent was. Out of the dust came the sprinting sniper who spun the rifle around and fired it mid-spin. A quick Flash Move took her away from the bullet. This led to a problem. Her opponent was excellent at long range fights and many of her more powerful spells required that she remain stationary for a small time, enough to get sniped by her Acturan counterpart. If she were to go up close, than there was less margin for error than at long ranges. Fate suspected that her opponent was using magic to enhance their marksmanship.

Another bullet whizzed by and she returned with another barrage of magic, tearing up the rubble. Fate then immediately moved, not wanting to be a stationary opponent. She remained just long enough for a shot to rip into her leg as she moved away. Fate moved into a building about fifteen-hundred meters from the battle and set about to healing the wound and forming a plan on how to beat this difficult opponent.

xxxxxxxxx

Jay sprinted, superhuman strength shattering the ground under him as he ran, raising his rifle and scanning around for the general. He was quickly able to pick out Shikinami and raised his rifle. He fired a burst which was destroyed by a pair of magical bolts. It was the damned White Devil.

"Guess I have to go through you to kill him. So be it. I'm not called 'Dragon' for nothing," conveyed Jay to his TSAB opposite, the Ace of Aces herself. He was surrounded by flames and red points of light could be seen from out of his visor. They both raised their weapons to do battle.


	15. Surrender Means Die

Chapter 15

Surrender Means Die

Rask fired the last round from his shotgun before throwing it away in favor of his long combat knife, a menacingly large drop point blade with a non-reflective black coating. This was no ordinary combat knife, having been forged specially of a unique alloy to better channel electrical magic. He wielded the fluidly, switching between grips quickly to react to the differing conditions of a fight. Shank lunged forward with the knife in a saber grip which missed, passing over her shoulder before using the ring at the pommel to switch to a reversed grip. His next strike curved, ready to sink deep into her shoulder. With his enhanced strength, it would easily punch through bone and go into her lung. His opponent spun around, blocking the strike with the shaft of her hammer. A thrust caught him in the chest and shoved him back. Lightning blasted forth from the knife, an advantage it had over the shotgun: he could use it to channel his magic without worrying about ruining the weapon. It harmlessly clashed against her shields in a spray of sparks.

The whirling drill came forward again, bouncing off his shields as he went low. Shank then pushed up in a rising blow. The hammer spun around to put his head through a grinder, but a light touch from the knife allowed brought her to her knees as electricity coursed through her nerve endings in a single moment that was an eternity of agony. A heavy boot slammed into her face, instantly breaking her nose. Blood gushed out from her nose. She fell to the ground as muscles spasmed from the electrical shocks.. A cruel and cold grin split his face.

"And now, little girl, you die. Nice try though, but maybe you should pick on someone your own size," mocked Rask before bringing the blade down, not even bothering to use the anti-shield technique by virtue of simply putting so much power into the strike. Distracted by the pain and the euphoric feeling of victory, he did see her swing the warhammer around to sweep him off his feet and send him tumbling.

"Vita."

"Huh."

"My name is Vita. I think that someone who fought as hard as you did should know the name of their killer."

The hammer began its arc, twinkling like a morning star. Rask quickly rolled aside as the hammer buried itself into the ground. With luck, it would take her some time to get it back in action. This hope was in vain as she simply powered through and send the rocket propelled drill toward his face as it tore up ground all the while. He flipped up as the hammer \came out of the dirt, still homing for him. It was like a golf swing of death. He dodged it, with the exhaust scorching his face. He grabbed her arm and used the leverage to throw her over his shoulder and into the ground. She rolled out and was on her feet in seconds.

"Graf Eisen, Cartridge Load," she ordered.

"Jawohl. Explosion," responded the Armed Device as it used up a cartridge. Rask could feel the increase in her power from that. Then it loaded another. Shank knew that he would have put all his magic into the next strike and sheathed the blade as electricity crackled along his body, focusing into his hand. If this didn't work, he would lose as he would be out of magic and the magic that had been holding his body together throughout the fight would stop assisting him.

Lightning bound hand and drill tipped hammer clashed, both working to grind through the other's shield. Rask's spear hand sliced into Vita's cheek as her drill bored through his magic shield, through the body armor, and into his chest. Eyes once glowing like stars with magical power faded to blue. Blood leaked out as he fell. Rask still had enough strength to prop himself up against a piece of concrete. Vita was loath to remove Graf Eisen from the Acturan mage since he would provide excellent intel and if he bled more from removing the drill from his sucking chest wound, he might end up dead and unable to provide any information.

"Impressive," conveyed Rask.

"Not bad yourself. It would be interesting to see what you could do with a Device," returned Vita, plopping down next to him on the same slab of concrete. She removed his grenades and handgun and knife.

"So you're just going to watch me die with a drill embedded in my chest."

"No. I'm actually planning on taking you prisoner."

"If I was not so drained, I'd be frying myself right now. It's far better for me to die than be captured."

"Don't be so grim."

He coughed up some blood and spat it out away from him.

"Fuck you. It's rather hard not to be grim when you just shoved a drill in my chest. I've got -what- minutes left. That was an amazing fight, my first against another mage, so I'm not pissed."

"Glad you enjoyed it," responded Vita, drained and wounded herself.

xxxxxxxxx

Signum launched forward, Laevatein ready to shred the large Acturan. A series of barriers launched forward at her. She dodged them easily, quickly looking around to make sure he wasn't trying to box her in. He jumped from platform to platform with surprising agility in spite of his bulk. A barrier came in front of her and she simply ripped in apart with her sword, but it was enough of a pause for the Acturan to fire a burst of machine gun fire. She moved quickly, dodging the stream.

"I understand that you are doing your job too, Miss Signum, but it would be nice if you would just let us do ours. You are the large power, so shouldn't you throw the underdog a bone here?"

"There is a difference between chivalry and appeasing someone who would stab you in the back."

"I know. I'm not exactly expecting any mercy or quarter, but I'm fighting for my country. Right or wrong, I won't stand by and let my country become the puppet of some other power. It's a damn shame too; it would be nice if we didn't have to fight. We might have ended up friends."

"Really now. So your heart isn't in the fight?" asked the pink-haired mage.

"Not quite," responded Brute, forming a barrier to block her strike, "I'm still trying to kill you; you are in my way. I'm just objectively stating that without this war, we might have been able to become friends. However, I may not have even met you without this war, so make of that what you will."

Somehow, Signume got close enough to Brute to send out a decapitating swing. The Acturan turned to face her and blocked her blade with one of his own formed out of one of his barriers. He swung around, firing the machine gun from the hip all the while. She flew backward, and more barriers appeared. She weaved around them as they moved to box her in.

"I apologize. I understand that you probably enjoy a good sword fight, and while I am a trained fencer, I quite honestly prefer my machine gun. Besides, it is stupid to play to your advantages."

"You realize that you are likely to burn through your mana quickly if you continue like this. While your magic is quite good, you lack a Device to assist you, and your abilities are far from top tier although you use them very effectively. I'd say that you are far away from me in terms of raw power."

"I've learned to cope. I'm not going to run out any time soon. While 'Brute' is my nickname, a more accurate translation in your language would be 'Juggernaught.' I don't have it for nothing," returned Brute. It was not bragging, a mere statement of fact.

"Your loss."

Signum launched forward again from below, this time deliberately overshooting, forcing him to drop. While he could clime faster, he could only fall at around ten meters per second. She near instantaneously turned back around. There was no way for him to dodge. Anything he did would either be too slow or put him in her path. It was a disadvantage she could exploit because of how he was unable to truly fly, rather hop from platform to platform he created in midair. He raised his gun and fired a long burst. The bullets ripped around her. Barriers came, but Signum twisted around them. She brought Laevetain down. Brute created a platform and jumped to the side. The strike became one that merely sheared off the barrel of his gun instead of shearing him in two. Brute tossed away the weapon she had ruined. Her upswing was barely dodged but clipped the edge of his helmet, ripping it off. Unsurprisingly, the Acturan had dark hair cut high and tight. His skin was naturally dark and his eyes glowed green with power. Stubble was growing around his jawline and cleft chin.

"I'm sorry, but now you really must die since you've seen my face. I hope you understand."

Her next stroke was countered by an immaterial blade of force. If she could press the attack, he would be unable to form any other barriers. Her opponent had even admitted that she was superior in terms of swordsmanship. She had the fight in the bag. The biggest problem would be the invisible blade. It's construction made observing its shape and length virtually impossible without focusing on your magic. In that respect, it was superior to her own Laevatein as it was now.

"Laevatein. Cartridge load."

"Explosion."

A cartridge show forth from Device, still smoking. Brute could feel the newfound power of his opponent. It was time to use the single unique move he had created for use with his barrier derived swords. They both attacked, Laevatein being wielded with two hands to smash aside his defenses with pure power. Brute split the blade so that it struck three places at the same time by folding the space around his strike. Nonetheless, Signum moved her sword with incredible grace and skill, blocking and deflecting all three blows before smashing into him. He was barely able to deflect the thrust toward his heart. Her arm became of motion as did his. Dozens of blows rang across the space in between them in seconds, sparks flying around and showering them.

"Cartridge load."

"Explosion."

Her blows increased in both speed and power. Brute responded by constantly using his own technique to try and defend from every attack. In the span of seconds, hundreds of blows were exchanged between the two swordsman. In a quick respite, Brute was able to draw his dagger. Signum expended another cartridge. The two spun about in a deadly dance. It was chaotic, without rhyme or rhythm, as sword and dagger met Armed Device. Even more blows were exchanged. Now, nicks and scratches were beginning to appear on the two dueling mages. Brute was a little slow in guarding one attack and it barreled past his defenses, easily piercing his own magical shield. It punched through the ceramic of his body armor and into his guts. He knew that he could bring her down with him and slammed his knife through her arm, pinning her as he shoved his infinitely sharp blade through her torso. The barrier he had used for his sword dispersed and the two plummeted to the ground.

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Inch by inch, Hawkeye crawled across the shattered battlefield as she repositioned for another shot. She looked around for a good position and there was one, a small cavity under a collapsed wall. While a higher position would give a more dominating view of the battlefield, it was an obvious place for a sniper. She set up, bracing the rifle and looking through the scope. Suddenly, the other mage burst out. She held her fire as her opponent was out of the effective range of her rifle. Her opponent paused and would not move for several seconds. She quickly brought the rifle in the correct position to score a hit. With her precognitive skills, she didn't need to aim, instinctively knowing where to place the rifle as a side effect of her divination magic.

The shot rang out. That bitch just had to dodge her bullet. She racked the straight pull bolt-action rifle and chambered the next round. Hawkeye usually loved the deliberate nature of the bolt-action rifle, but now she would have given anything for a semi-automatic rifle. She wasn't like the others, able to use their own magic abilities as weapons. All she had was precognition and a rifle. She began to crawl out of her shooting position, relocating. It was then she saw Rask propped up against a concrete slab with a hammer embedded in his chest. Her vision began to cloud with anger. She raised the rifle and turned to put the reticule on that little bitch's head.

The ground around her exploded, sending up lethal shards of debris with mostly bounced harmlessly against her shields. They managed to bring it down though and she felt a sharb pain in her neck as breathing became difficult. The Acturan sniper looked in horror as she discovered that a jagged shard of masonry had pierced her neck. She was barely able to breathe. Hawkeye collapsed and turned to fire at that blonde who had caused it. Shaking arms missed. She worked the bolt and fired again. Vision turning grey, she ripped off the helmet, gasping for air. Her body was growing feeble.

She fired until the gun was empty she could barely see. Her limbs were too weak to even reload it. Then the enemy mage was in front of her. Hawkeye would take her out with her. Quickly, she grabbed her pistol and put a round into the other girl's midsection. It was then that her vision gave out and she slipped into unconsciousness.

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Fireballs and bolts of magic twisted and turned as the two mages redirected the projectiles again and again to clash and try and get past the other's defensive screen of the same projectiles. Nanoha seemed quite determined. If Jay had not been wearing his helmet, she would have seen a similar expression on his face. He was still cloaked in flames.

"Why are you fighting?" conveyed Nanoha as they continued to exchange volleys of magic

"It isn't for money, passion, glory, or any of that bullshit. It is my duty to carry out my orders without a regret. Is there a better reason to fight than for the sake of something greater than yourself? For me, it is the continued existence of the Republic of Acturus. Talking won't make me change my mind. Besides, there are three outcomes to this battle. I win, you die, and I accomplish my mission. You win, I die, and I can't accomplish my mission. You win, I live, and I get put up in front of a rigged trial. I'm too dangerous to be released back into normal society if captured and I'll spend the rest of my life locked up in a cell. That shit ain't happening so you've got to go."

The air around them began to get oppressively hotter. Anything flammable around them ignited. The hairs on the back of Nanoha's neck began to rise as she could feel the power building up around her. She flew backwards as a lightning bolt crashed at her previous location. So that was what he had been doing.

_Divine Shooter_.

The homing bolts of magic sought out her foe. This time, he let them smash themselves against his shield. He fired a burst of rifle fire at her. It missed Jay had such a great urge to give in and let loose with fully-automatic fire, but it was not a machine gun. He couldn't saturate an area like McCloud could. He smiled. He had at least one psychological advantage: the mask. With the face-concealing helmet, the White Devil would be unable to tell his thoughts, whether he was troubled or worried. She couldn't look him in the eyes to predict his next move and he found it easier to kill when he had the mask on, though that was not to say that it wasn't easy enough without the mask.

He launched a stream of fire from his ands toward the mage. It was dodged, but it curved back like a serpent to strike her again. It split apart into a pair of twin serpents intertwined in a deadly dance. Her shield spell stopped one of the cold and Dragon cursed as he let the other stream of fire dissipate.

_Divine Buster_.

Jay was forced to enhance his strength and speed to tap dance around the scything beam. The extreme heat of the attack turn the ground into a wreck of fused metal and molten glass. He could feel the heat and loved it. Fire was in his blood. He sent out a volley of fireballs to distract the TSAB Ace of Aces. He doubted that she could survive a miniature thermonuclear blast. It was his trump card, and it was best to use it early in this case. He began to focus on the sun and used magic to begin separating hydrogen from the water vapor in the air around them. He gathered the hydrogen atoms as the fires around him burned brighter with the sudden influx of pure oxygen. That girl was still throwing spells at him, but the dragon was either dodging or tanking them with his own magical shields. She too was charging up her own spell, probably the feared Starlight Breaker. It was a race to see who could pull out all stops and use their ultimate attack first.

Jay's microcosm of a star reached potential first, less than a second before the words "Starlight Breaker!" echoed across the war torn city even if he couldn't understand them. In terms of power, Nanoha's Starlight Breaker used up more mana than Dragon's own attack and had a unique shield breaking property but his didn't need nearly as much raw power to begin or sustain, merely enough to separate the hydrogen from the oxygen, fuse it, and send the cone of destruction in the general direction of the enemy. However, it did not have a nonlethal option. It was a testament to her good nature that even as he unleashed a thermonuclear blast at her that she did not resort to lethal force. The dueling attacks crashed against each other. The ground began to melt around under them. Buildings were knocked down from the sheer power of the attacks clashing. The winds tore the helmet off his shoulders. As the beams dueled, the unexpected happened. A trio of mana bolts fired from a standard issue Storage Device by one Major Arthas Smith, struck Jay. One burned through his shield which, and the next two smashed into his arm and leg, ripping them apart into a bloody mist. Dragon lost control of the attack and it simply stopped. Without being focused, Nanoha's attack easily punched through to slam into the Assault Trooper.


	16. When Millions Burn

Acturus, you dun goofed. I'm alive and writing. School takes up much time. I'm proud to say that this work is nearing its conclusion as two forces clash against each other on the road to destruction. This is the point of no return, and the kiddy gloves come off.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

**When Millions Burn**

"Arkaios is lost," thought Parker. It was that simple. Though TSAB forces had lost orbital superiority, the Deep Space Fleet was not Planetary Defense Fleet. He had been informed that they were going to take the space fight to the enemy, but it meant that he still lacked orbital support. They had set up a few defense stations equipped with shields around the planet, but those were not nearly as useful as a fleet.

The enemy commander had managed to attack with such ferocity that they had lost control of the city within the day. They had been forced to blow the tunnels underneath the city to deny their use to the enemy. Furthermore, that Nanoha Takamachi had destroyed one of his submarines, but not before it had been able to wreak havoc with cruise missiles. Thankfully, surface elements had driven her off, their powerful shields being effective against even her attacks. Approximately two-hundred aircraft had been destroyed in the gigantic furball that had erupted over the skies that day. There was one name that stood out to him of the pilots, one Lieutenant Alexander. The pilot had fought in all major aerial battles up to this point, gotten thirty-three kills, and miraculously survive a dogfight with a mage that was probably Enforcer Testarossa-Harlaown. It was a difficult choice for what to do with him. One one hand, he could keep him flying where he could kill possibly hundreds of mages. Alternatively, he could send the man back to teach new pilots and have a new generation of good pilots rather than only a few excellent pilots. Finally, he could transfer him to the Lightweight High Maneuverability Fighter Program. Having reviewed the tapes of Lieutenant Alexander in action, Parker decided that this guy was a very aggressive pilot, using his plane to the utmost and pressing in close attacks and knife-fighting range, the territory where the mage was usually superior.

"If he gets in the cockpit of one of the HMFs, then he should perform exceedingly well. I'll move him to that," decided the commander before beginning to write a letter of transfer.

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"Looks like our next line of defense will be the Desan Mountains and that big base we have on the Heights," said Rakas, giving her opinion.

"Permission to speak freely?" asked Hennessey.

"Sure."

"It's a good position to defend, but we have to retreat and give them a good 250 kilometers or so."

"Sergeant, that's only about a five hour drive. You alright? I like it. Their ground forces will get choked up in the few roads. The rest of the terrain is too rough for even infantry to advance at anything beyond a snail's pace."

"I suppose so, but I don't like retreating."

"We're not going to abandon everything. We're going to another town to hold that until the TSAB fuckers make holding the position unsustainable. Then we fall back to the next defensible position. This is to buy time so that we can bring up our reserves. If they don't force a breakthrough within eight days, they will fight against us on the offense. Let's see how they like a nice long creeping barrage while we kill them while their heads are down."

"That makes far more sense. Thanks, LT."

"No problem. I digress, but I'm pissed that bitch in command of the TSAB forces cut short our little vacation. I was enjoying that shit."

"Damn straight." "You said it." "Fuck her."

Rakas's platoon emphatically agreed with their leader. The lieutenant nodded.

"Seriously guys, it's like what they used to do with the Air Force. Fly until you die. At least they get to sit back in their comfy chairs and drop bombs. If they're a UAV pilot..."

Rakas paused for the chuckles, "... then they just stare at a screen, sip their coffee, and wonder what to do when they get shot down. Ah, the Glorious Chair Force. Saving the world by bombing the shit out of it. Let's not even touch on orbital fire support where landing shots within a three kilometers of the target is considered to be sharpshooting. Probably because they're up doing kinky shit in zero-g which screws up their aim, but I digress. And then there is the Navy. Just don't drop the soap. You're my bitches, and as such, I reserve the right to sodomize you in the shower."

They were laughing hard. Her foul sense of humor got a lot of respect from her troops. Hennessey raised his hand, and Rakas instantly knew it was a smartass question from the former nurse. She shot it down immediately.

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Brute McCloud wanted to kill himself right now. He wanted to take out the IV tube and jam it through his eye-socket and into his brain. He'd failed at his mission, been unmasked, was captured. Assault Troopers weren't supposed to be captured. He'd already tried suicide, but they'd stopped him. Magical restraints prevented him from using it to fry his brain, and physical restraints kept him from using the items around him for suicide.

Dragon, Rask, and Hawkeye had all died. They had been given field graves. Assault Troopers carried no other identification than their unit insignia. It was their lot, to fight in the shadows and die unremembered. He could live with that. He could live with his best friends being buried in unmarked graves. However, that red haired girl simply made him angry. It really shouldn't since she wasn't trying to mindfuck him and was probably trying to be genuinely nice (He could tell she wasn't an interrogator).

There she was again with that damnable smile. She sat down next to the restrained Acturan.

"How are you today Mr. Brute?"

To avoid hurting her feelings, he replied, "Fine, thank you."

"Signum was quite impressed with your sword skills."

The Acturan laughed and replied, "Swordplay is just a hobby. I'm a machine gunner and heavy weapons guy. I'm surprised at just how little enmity you have for someone who tried to kill one of your friends recently."

"When the war is over, we'll just have to forgive. Honestly though, you'll probably end up being absorbed into the TSAB. My professional opinion is the cultural divide makes this rather impractical."

"I agree. The Acturan soldiers agree. It's why we've been fighting so hard. We don't want your soft tyranny. Do you know how the Acturan Army fights, Miss Takamachi?"

"Please elaborate."

"On the offense, we are methodical, implacable, and unstoppable. We grind down the enemy until we annihilate them. On the defense, there is a line of defense, and behind that another line, and behind that yet another. You will be ground down, and then we will annihilate you. It's the classic Acturan war."

"Bravo. I can't help but be reminded of the Red Army in Earth's Second World War."

"Never heard of it, I'm afraid."

"I'll see you later."

Brute was left alone on the cot. He stared at the blank ceiling.

"My life is a goddamn mess," he thought.

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"Do we have to sit her and watch?" asked one of the new guys nervously as they looked at a number of TSAB soldiers plinking at Acturan civilians. Somehow, scout elements had managed to beat them in to the town they were instructed to hold. Their job was to determine the strength of enemy forces. They had a company behind them, waiting for the go ahead.

Rakas saw body mutilated and shredded by the bolts of magic energy. Everybody had their trigger fingers ready to unleash a storm of lead.

"I've got an idea," said Rakas.

"What is it?" asked Elric.

"We're going to take the trucks and..."

Within a few minutes, the three trucks were driving down the road into the village, kicking up dust. The sun was high in the air, and many of the soldiers had their helmets off and sleeves rolled up to keep a little cooler.

The Acturans pulled up and dismounted. Rakas tucked her helmet under her arm as she put on a pair of sunglasses. Her rifle rattled around a bit as she hopped walked around. Art, was with them, carrying a shorter GCR-19 carbine.

Fearlessly, Rakas and Art walked up to who they assumed to be the commander of the TSAB scout group.

"Boo," said Rakas, surprising the man who started to swear loudly. He swore even more loudly when he saw the Acturan platoon.

"Would you please surrender. We've got an entire army behind us. Any resistance will simply lead to getting the shit bombed out of you. We've already got artillery sighted on you, so let's make this simple and easy," lied Rakas glibly with Art translating.

He began to sweat a bit more as he thought this out. It did not take long.

"Alright, alright. I, Lieutenant Guchiara, surrender to you."

"I, Lieutenant Rakas, accept your surrender."

With that it was finished. TSAB infantrymen sat down and were handcuffed while Acturans idly pointed bayonets and rifles at them. Eventually, the rest of the company came over to secure the town.

"Good job, Rakas. Objective taken. Enemies captured. No casualties," said the Captain as he examined the scene.

"Wait, this is no army! The fuck?" said the TSAB leader.

"Oh, I lied," returned Rakas once Art translated it for her. Hennessey's right-hand man couldn't help but chuckle as he gave the man Rakas's answer.

One of the TSAB soldiers rose up to cast a spell. Several bursts of automatic fire punched through his shields and tore through his body. Hennessey casually walked over to the finish the job and put a burst through the man's head, splattering brains onto the pavement.

"That was some hardcore shit," commented one of the guys from another platoon.

"This is pussy, faggot shit compared to some of the nasty shit I've seen."

"Would anyone else like to try something?" asked a smiling Art.

The company spent the next few hours fortifying the position while calling for someone else to take care of the POWs. Regimental Command had radioed back that it would realistically be around three hours before someone came to pick up the prisoners. The Acturans had made the TSAB prisoner bury the civilians they'd shot. The people of the small town were more than happy to see the friendly soldiers.

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"This war," reflected Jacob, "Should be over if we win this battle."

The Deep Space Fleet had resupplied before setting out for Mid-Childa with the Self-Propelled Weapons Platform _Sacred War_. He'd seen the odd thing. It was a long, relativistic particle cannon strapped to a few engines. It barely qualified as a ship, but it was designed to compete in power the infamous Arc-en-Ciel. Unlike the Arc-en-Ciel, the _Sacred War _ was designed to be used like a giant spaceborne sniper rifle. According to the tests, it could destroy any ship in a single hit. A second one, the _Acturan Blood_ was being built to defend the home planet. They'd been in construction for a while now, but the war had sped up the rate at which they were finished.

The klaxon shook him out of his reverie. Red lights flashed.

"Attention. Dropping into realspace in T-minus 15 minutes. All hands report to battle stations.

I repeat, we are dropping into realspace in T-minus 15 minutes. All hands to their battle stations."

Jacob did nothing. He was already at his station. Everyone else was most likely at their stations, too. Soon enough, it would be the end of an era. He wasn't quite sure whether it would the TSAB's or the DRA's.

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The fleet dropped into realspace near Mid-Childa. It was an attack that could only be defended from by orbital defense platforms and warships. The Acturan ships were already in formation when they arrived, floating and drifting on predetermined courses. _Sacred War _was in the back of the formation, just over a light second away from Mid-Childa. The cannon was primed, ready to unleash hell.

The firing was not a complicated procedure considering the destructive power of the cannon. The target was identified, the gunner found a solution, gunnery sent the solution to the captain, the captain would then veto or approve the shot. If he approved, the gun would be fired as it now was.

Each superconducting ring glowed and would have crackled, had there been air in space, one after another as they accelerated the electrons to speeds nearing light itself. A small field at the end vectored the beam, allowing it to sweep the heavens. Five battleships, all with shields up, were sliced apart by the scything beam of energy. The beam did not stop with the battleships, and swept onto the planet. Seas boiled and it rent the land in two. Mid-Childa burned with radioactive fires as the air ionized. Lightning crackled from the immense heat released into the atmosphere. One of the fundamentals of shooting is to be aware of your target and what is behind it. The Acturans were well aware of the planet behind the enemy fleet. Since it was likely that dozens of millions would die as result of this, the Acturan Space Command had gambled that the soft TSAB would put an end to the war. Especially if Mid-Childa burned.

The Acturans quickly scattered the the fleet. The orbital defense stations were easy pickings with their predictable paths. A dozen bombardment ships filled to the brim with orbit-to-ground missile, dropped their loads. The devastation wrought could be seen by the naked eye from orbit. As quickly as they came, the Deep Space Fleet was gone. The message was made, and there was no point in hanging around for reinforcements. The message: "Don't fuck with the Democratic Republic of Acturus or your worlds will burn."


	17. Power Against Precision

Triple Update.

* * *

Chapter 17

Power against Precision

"They've got us," commented Admiral Lokan as studied the 3 dimensional display of the space. It wasn't suprising that they had been found, but they had found him unusually quickly. He was outnumbered by nearly three-to-one, five-to-one in battleships. They weren't fucking around when it came to the _Sacred War_.

"Sir, sensors detect gathering of energy corresponding with Arc-en-Ciel shots."

Lokan found a wooden match and lit the cigar he was chomping on. It was his first in years. It was euphoric. He puffed out a little cloud of smoke that the ventilation sucked away. Everyone looked at his blatant flouting of shipboard regulations.

"What? We're facing a fleet several times larger than we are. I deserve a smoke in this situation."

There were polite chuckles at his explanation.

"This is Rear Admiral Vaina of the _Sacred War_. Gunnery has proposed that we use the spinal cannon to shoot down their Arc-en-Ciel shots. Permission to fire?"

"Permission granted, Rear Admiral. Fire at will."

At a maximum rate of fire of one shot every two minutes at its slowest, the relativistic particle cannon could fire faster than a TSAB ship equipped with an Arc-en-Ciel cannon. If the duration of firing was lowered to a quarter of a second, it could safely fire 20 times a minute, albeit at a loss in raw destructive power. With the powerful targeting equipment, the ordinarily long distances of this battle were easy solutions for the computers.

The Bureau ships were faster on the "draw" than the _Sacred War_, but it was fast enough. There were two-hundred Arc-en-Ciel beams aimed at the Acturan fleet. The relativistic particle cannon did not even need a direct hit to disrupt the of the powerful attacks. Such a disruption would deflect them to an angle that would miss the Acturan ships

The bridge of the Sacred War was tense and nervous. Gunnery was especially nervous since one bad calculation meant that an Arc-en-Ciel shot would hit the fleet.

"Admiral Vaina, 200 more Arc-en-Ciel shots incoming. This should be the last of their firing cycle. The particle cannon will finish its cooling cycle in 27 seconds. By then, the ETA of the Arc-en-Ciel fire will be T-minus 18 seconds. The expected cooling cycle for the Arc-en-Ciel firing is 150 seconds until the next barrage."

"Acknowledged. The precision of the RPC, although lacking in raw power compared to the Arc-en-Ciel emplacement makes it a superior weapon particularly against warships. We can win this."

"Aye sir."

200 more Arc-en-Ciel beams were defeated far away from but still relatively close to the Acturan fleet by the precisely directed fire of the _Sacred War_. One warship was also destroyed by a relativistic particle beam, though such hits were accidents more than planned occurences. Throughout the rest of the space, warships were exchanging fire. The Acturan fleet was doing its best to put itself in between enemy fire and their trump card, Sacred War. Two dozen ships were already destroyed compared to a mere eight of the enemy's.

"Sir, cooling cycle has finished. T-minus 95 seconds until next enemy barrage."

"Remember the admiral's orders. Fire at will."

Twenty short beams fired from the long spinal mount, punching through an equal number of warships with ease. Their shields might as well have been wet tissue paper for all the good they did. The ships then exploded a few seconds after the beams had punched clean through their hulls. Vaporized metal expanded away in artistically beautiful displays of but one form of perfect destruction.

Coilgun slugs, missiles, magic bolts and beams, and mana torpedoes streaked across the voic. None were nearly as fast or accurate as the sniper of space combat, Sacred War. One Acturan wall of battle had managed to begin bombarding the ventral surfaces of a formation of TSAB ships where they could only direct half their fire against the full broadsides of their foes. Another four TSAB ships were destroyed in this exhange of fire for three Acturan ships. Ships were exploding left and right. Mage squadrons were sent forward to go into the teeth of the enemy fleet and defeat them there.

"All ships, prepare to disengage vie microjump. Ready your FTL drives," ordered Admiral Lokan from within the bowels of his battleship. His fleet had already lost more than 1/10th of its ships. Sadly, such losses were not affordable. Even with the many fleet building projects already underway, these losses couldn't be replaced. A battleship exploded, pierced through hundreds of beams.

Across, the vast distances of space, the TSAB had set up their trap. With all the background magical energy mask it, twenty Arc-en-Ciel blasts were being readied. Their firepower would soon be released with an apocalyptic fury. They had figured out the cooling cycle of the enemy superweapon. The Acturans thought that they knew how many TSAB ships were equipped with Arc-en-Ciel emplacements, but this oversight would prove to be their downfall.

The orders came: "Fire."

The twenty gargantuan beams lanced out to annihilate the opposition. There would be no stopping them

"Fire!" screamed Rear Admiral Vaina as he saw them coming.

"But, sir! That will start to melt the ship."

"Hundreds if not thousands of spacemen will be dead unless we fire. Damn the radiators and fire at will!"

Thus, the Sacred War fired its long, spinal relativistic particle cannon. Individual radiator tiles began to crack and shatter under the heat, but enough remained for the ship to survive. All but one of the trajectories of the Arc-en-Ciel beams were disrupted, but that last one was aimed straight for the _Sacred War_. It missed, but the blast knocked down the shields of the mighty vessel. The flaring energies destroyed part of the drive section of the vessel.

"Damage report?"

"They've knocked out our FTL drive. Damage irreparable."

"Let me call up, Admiral Lokan."

Admiral Lokan looked relieved to hear that the rear admiral had survived.

"Admiral Lokan," said Vaina with a sad smile on his face, "It's been an honor. Our FTL drive was knocked out with irreparable damage. However, we'll hold them off for you to make a jump."

The younger man saluted the smoking fleet commander. The fleet commander saluted back. He extinguished the cigar. His life and the lives of his men was going to be bought at the price of the crew of Acturus's great naval weapon. To call it a ship would almost be a misnomer. It was a cannon with drives and living quarters strapped onto it.

The cannon cooled before unleashing a precise stream of shots that destroyed all twenty of the vessels that had fired upon it. The ship fired again again. Ships were sliced apart, punched clean through, and gutted. None survived.

Enemy shots slammed into its shields as the other ships of the Deep Space Fleet disappeared to return to their port for repairs. They held firm. Another three ships were annihilated. It had already destroyed forty-one of the enemy fleet.

"Gentleman," said Rear Admiral Vaina as he perspired from the heat released into the ship by the failing radiators, "It has been an honor. You've done your duty and done it well. I could not ask for a better crew then you. Centuries later, this engagement will be remembered as the day when a single Acturan ship fought bravely against an entire enemy fleet put them to shame. Let's make them mourn this day."

The enemy was concentrating more fire upon his ship now.

"Guns, prepare for a minute of continuous fire of the RPC."

"Sir, that will destroy the ship."

"Indeed it will. We're going out with a bang. All already told you they will mourn the day they fought the _Sacred War_."

The enemy ships were closing in now. All power was diverted to the cannon. The ravenous beam lanced through the darkness. Ship after ship after ship was annihilated by its apocalyptic fury. It deflected Arc-en-Ciel beams with great precision. Even so, the damaged radiators and overworked reactors could not keep up with the strain. The radiators melted and cracked, which caused the containment on the mana reactors to melt from the heat. With the containment gone, the ship was consumed and destroyed. It lasted a mere 15 seconds, three times its safe output.

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"Good," thought Admiral Lokan some days later at the funeral for the crew of the Sacred War on the capital planet itself, "They all received the highest possible honor. I made damn sure of that."

Every member of the fifty man crew, from Rear Admiral Vaina to the lowest spaceman, had received the Hero of the Republic award, the greatest military decoration in the Democratic Republic of Acturus.

Nine spacemen in their black dress uniforms with crimson sashes marched onto the funeral ground. They were silent and carried meticulously maintained and polished rifles. The nine man unit, one less than the normal ten man squad, signified the missing men and women who had fought and died for their country. Five time they volleyed, sending green tracers into the air. Live ammunition was reserved only for the most solemn funerals such as posthumous Hero of the Republic awards.

Their families mourned their passing along with the President himself and his entourage. Lokan felt a few tears fall down his own wisened and aged face. They were good men who had given everything.

He walked from the scene. There was nothing left to do. His fleet was going to take part in the final defense of the homeworld. They would resist to the bitter end. He would laugh in the face of annihilation. Perhaps he would be enough of a man to sacrifice himself like Rear Admiral Vaina did, with a smile. That man truly was a hero.

Lokan looked to the man's grieving widow and could wonder, "Was her husband's sacrifice in vain?"

He walked into the open door of his car. With a nod, the driver started removing the car from the scene. The driver looked back at his boss, with all the weight on his shoulders, he looked more like a frail old man than a proud and grizzled admiral.

"Could you drop me off at my son's house? I'd like to visit my grandchildren. I'm sure they would appreciate it."

"Yes sir."

xxxxxxxxx

"Sir, we lost 56 ships to that monster before it exploded. According to our intelligence, they have another one in construction to be used in the defense of the homeworld."

The leader of the Time-Space Administration Bureau nodded at this news. It was bad news, but everything these days seemed to be bad.

"It seems as though this Acturan superweapon has brought its kill count up to thirty million people now, though that number seems to keep rising every day. Issue an order to our ground commanders to kill everything that doesn't surrender. I do mean everything, not just military personnel, but they can be more lenient with civilians. Their fate is sealed. I don't know why they thought they could do this. Open up the diplomatic channels. I want to deliver an ultimatum," stated the leader with eyes hard as steel. There would be one last chance at mercy for the Acturans.

"Of course. We'll do this ASAP. What do you intend on?"

"I intend on a face to face meeting in a neutral country. I want them to know that I mean business."

xxxxxxxxx

"Marshal Parker, the experiment is ready for deployment."


	18. Final Countdown

First update in while and a triple update at that. My actual author's not is in the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 18

Final Countdown

"Nanoha, I think you might enjoy this mission for once. The General told me to tell you. We've discovered the location of their global command post. He'd like you to capture Marshall Parker. Lethal force is to be used at your discretion," said Hayate.

"I'm up for it. Let's end this."

xxxxxxxxx

"Good morning, gentlemen," said Oscar as he walked into his command post.

"Sir, we've received a request for authorization to use tactical nukes," said a slight, young man. There were thick, dark rings around his eyes from too many sleepless nights.

"What kind of tactical nukes?"

"Low-radiation, sir."

"Thanks, Johnson. How's your wife been? I bet she's worried sick."

"Umm, yes sir. I told her that I'm just an office worker in a command post, not one of the poor bloody infantry. She's feeling a bit better, sir."

"That's great to hear. Murphy, what did you think of those flowers I sent you? I understand that coming down with pneumonia isn't good under the best circumstances."

"It was nice, sir," replied a young woman who was part of his staff.

"About the tactical nukes, I approve. Tell them not to get as nuke happy as the space fleet in any given battle."

There were a few chuckles along with one "I resent that!"

"Alright, let's get to work," said Parker, going into his own office.

xxxxxxxxx

"Here they come!" shouted Rakas, looking through a pair of binoculars, "You guys motivated?"

"No ma'am!" was the enthusiastic and motivated reply.

"Tough. Let's commit legal and grievous murder,"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Softie 'toon, are you ready?"

"Of course we are, crunchy commander," replied the lieutenant in charge of the tank platoon reinforcing their position.

Down the road, a column of tanks advanced to their position. The hovering vehicles kicked up a large cloud of dust as they came. The 127mm smoothbores opened up first from the hull down positions of the T-70s. Massive tongues of fire comparable to a flamethrower were blasted from the muzzle alongside supersonic shaped charge rounds. Less than a second later, the HEAT rounds were followed up with APFSDS kinetic energy penetrators. It was, in effect, a double tap with a tank gun. For the infantry, there was nothing to do but sit and wait in this clash of armored titans from thousands of meters. The platoon had their anti-armor weapon, but they were out of long range fire-and-forget rounds, limiting their effectiveness to within half a kilometer at most. The large beams lanced out to target the tanks. Paint was scarred away as slabs of armor were melted. The first barrage was inconclusive. Tank crews scratched their heads for a moment before returning to earning their pay by killing the other tankers.

A flight of aerial mages lifted off. The remotely operated machine guns on the turrets of the T-70s swiveled to fill the sky with lead. However, it was only a single heavy machine gun per tank, less than sufficient for their nominal job. Large bolts of light arced like shooting stars to smash positions. Missiles then streaked through the air from grounds based SAM units. Bolts and smoke filled the sky, obscuring everything. Some surviving mages reported back the repositioning anti-air units. Another group flew nape of the earth into the terrain. The guns had mere seconds to react, ripping apart some in hailstorms of explosive rounds. However, aerial mages were also effective infantry, somewhat moreso than standard infantry mages because of the greater power required for flight. It wasn't a fight: it was a slaughter.

In response to the dying screams of an AA battery commander, the 240mm mortars began to drop thermobaric rounds over the last position, annihilating the aerial mages with extreme prejudice. In order to comply with doctrine, the mortars already began moving soon after the rounds had impacted. However, this forced the 165mm howitzers to perform counterbattery fire, a role much more suited to some of the specialist rounds available to the mortars. This action revealed the positions of the howitzers.

In spite of constant strikes and impediments, the surface-to-orbit coilgun network was again operational. Again, the silos opened to fire shells the mass of small cars. However, rather than target the ships, this salvo dispersed an incredibly dense cloud of small ECM drones. While fairly limited on their own, in this quantity, they blinded space based sensors from the ground below. This gave high flying strategic bombers to operate without worry of being shot down by space based assets for approximately sixty minutes. The bomb bays opened for the long shapes of heavyweight air-to-ground missiles to fall before the solid booster ignited for the grand total of ten seconds. After this, airspeed was fast enough for the scramjets to act, bringing the missiles to Mach 3. Stealth reconnaissance planes provided targeting data for the missiles. As they drew near, the missiles split into thousands of submunitions. These submunitions used swarm AI to gang up on targets to insure maximum efficiency. Within one fell swoop 10% of all TSAB artillery across the battlefront was destroyed. Armored reserve units, the forces who would consolidate a breakthrough, were decimated.

xxxxxxxxx

Smiley couldn't help but savor the new-plane smell of the XHMF. It was both an insane and insanely expensive design. This was in part due to the expensive magic techniques used to increase the G-tolerance beyond that of even the Lancer. It had a closed wing design, primarily to increase the surface area available for the flaps. Two massive pulsejet engines were arranged in an over-and-under configuration. Four twenty millimeter cannons were mounted in the wing roots. Due to the size of the engine, the weapons bays were exceedingly small, giving him a load of only twelve short range missiles. It was agile, incredibly expensive, and almost useless outside of very specific circumstances.

"Eagle Eye to Smiley," came the AWACS, "Incoming mages on our strat bomber strike group. Take 'em out."

"Smiley to Eagle Eye, let's get this party started."

Smiley snapped the plane about. Due to a combination of fly-by-wire, relaxed stability, and airframe design, it was exceedingly fast and smooth. With the exception of the Lancer that had served him so well, even against the TSAB elite, the experimental high mobility fighter was his favorite plane to fly. He quickly throttled up to Mach 2 without using the afterburner, another nice feature. In spite of the dual engines and reduced fuselage space, the range was similar to the Lancer due to the extra fuel stored in the wings. They would see him coming, it was inevitable, given the focus of speed over stealth in Acturan fighter planes.

Smiley still wasn't quite at visual range, but he could make out the lumbering specks of the strategic bombers. The helmet mounted display identified them along with the TSAB forces. It was only one mage. He recognized that same golden-yellow flash in the air. He chuckled.

"What the hell?" he said.

"Excuse me, Smiley," came Eagle Eye reminding him that when in the cockpit, everyone else could hear you talking yourself.

"Nothing, Eagle Eye. Engage?"

"Engage."

"I'm gonna' add this bitch to my tally."

"A girl? I know the TSAB has a much higher proportion of women in frontline roles, but how do you know?"

"Fought her once. I recognize some of her spells. Saved my life when I got shot down."

"You'd better not have any conflicting loyalties, Smiley."

"Of course not. I'm still going to kill her. Fuck the TSAB. I'd love to see the look on their faces when one of their best was shot down by some random fuck without magic in a fighter jet."

"Have at 'em, Smiley."

Soon enough, he got the lock tone in his helmet. One of the weapon bays, located on the sides of the fuselage between the upper and lower parts of the closed wing, opened up. A single missile streaked out. It was unlikely to work, but with four 20mm cannons firing at a combined 6000 rounds-per-minute, it could provide the distraction necessary to hammer away at her shields and get a kill. Right now, it wouldn't suit him to expose some of the features of the airframe. Just a simple, supersonic slash attack would do. Smiley roared past, pulsejet wailing. As he thought, the missile attack failed.

"She's on a completely different level," he muttered, "But this might even the gap enough for me to win."

He smoothly turned back in for another go, roughly matching the turning circle of a Lancer. He got another missile lock and loosed the guided projectile. Time seemed to freeze as the adrenaline took over. He didn't want to reveal the full extent of the fighter's differences just yet, but Smiley's instincts told him to do so. He'd learned to trust his instincts. Eight flush panels slid back from the fuselage to reveal nozzles. A quartet of side mounted nozzles belched flame, shoving the entire plane to the side. His timing was impeccable as dozens of golden beams swept through the area he had previously occupied. His opponent had used that teleporting trick again, he recognized it. The beams turned to follow him, Smiley began to work control surfaces, thrust vectoring, and vernier thrusters like a madman, managing to dodge every last one without anything more than melted paint. Smiley hit the afterburner to give him some space to think. He temporarily switched on his autopilot. Smiley removed a stubby cylinder about the size of a shotgun shell and placed it into a slot through which medication could be administered. He twisted the cylinder, cringing a bit as the needle bit into his skin. He depressed the plunger at the other end, sending the mixture into his veins. Strictly speaking, this particular mixture of stimulants which included amphetamines was illegal. Unofficially, most fighter pilots were able to procure such concoctions from quartermasters.

He saw pink octagons. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. Everything around him began to seem sluggish as his mind kicked into overdrive, almost like a human afterburner. He turned back. There was no sense in trying to conceal the abilities of the XHMF anymore. He'd just have to go all out. His mind was thinking five steps ahead of his body.

"Yeah, this should even it up," thought Smiley with a dreamy calm as the plane roared in. The missile locked, and he loosed a pair. Fuel for the vernier thrusters was down to 78%. Eight missiles were left in his bays. Suddenly, there she was. She was everywhere, surrounding him from all sides with a veritable sphere of bolts. Smiley switched to guns. There was one more secret to the HMF. As he looked at the field of gold coming in, a camera in the nose tracked his movements, and isolated the incoming projectiles from the surrounding sky. The four 20mm cannons had limited traverse and elevation, but they swiveled around as they belched fire, punching through the attacks. Smiley hit the afterburner and flew through the breach he had made. The remaining golden lances were eating his exhaust, but they were catching up. They followed through his turns. As he kept track of the bolts following him through rear view mirrors, he didn't notice Fate flashing up ahead of him, massive lightning sword ready to cleave apart his plane.

Through his peripheral vision, he noticed her in the sluggish world his senses had become. Smiley hit the verniers. His physical, meaty form was slow, too damn slow for his tastes. He rolled away from the slash. Smiley pulled hard on the rudders, using the thrust vectoring and verniers to assist in the turn. The plane turned 180 degrees within its length. For once, a fighter plane was able to match a mage in maneuverability, at least until fuel for the verniers ran out.

"Gotcha'" whispered Smiley as the pipper aligned with her.

He thumbed the firing stud for the guns. In his high speed world, he could make out each individual bullet and the trail it left of displaced air. In a short burst, he unleashed 100 rounds of cannon fire. The rounds exploded in dark puffs of smoke as they impacted against the shield of her barrier jacket. Nonetheless, it was enough to get a little past her barrier jacket. Red hot fragments of steel ripped into her side. It was enough to cause her to lose concentration for the dozens of spells chasing after him. It was an all-around win for Smiley, but not a decisive one. Still, he had managed to wound her, something he wasn't sure any other fighter pilot could lay claim to doing.

He quickly put out the airbrake and throttled back. She shot ahead, out of the 300 meter arming zone of his missiles. He got a lock and fired a missile. It too impacted the startled mage.

"So long and farewell. It was a good fight," thought Smiley as he flew a wide circle around the falling mage. Maybe if he were like her, Smiley would have tried to catch her on the wing of his plane, but that was the realm of movies and fantasy. It would have been a nice fiction to return the favor. It was just him and his breathing.

"Eagle Eye to Smiley, I think you got her."

"Damn. I think I just killed Fate Testarossa."

A pause as it sunk in.

"Holy shit! I think I just killed Fate Testarossa! Fuck yeah!"

"Smiley, hold your horses. I'm getting a big magic reading. She's still alive and well."

He looked back and saw the large magic circle. It would happen as it did before. He would be blinded and plummet to the earth or be annihilated along with the XHMF. His mind raced even faster, now ten steps ahead of his body.

"I can do this. I need to see this to dodge it, but if I limit the exposure to less than a second or so, I can dodge and then roll away to prevent being blinded. Then I return fire. Let's do this," went Smiley's mind.

The bright beam crossed the sky toward him. His mind accelerated even faster, now fifteen or twenty steps ahead of his body. He saw the path it would take, analyzed it and moved away. He rolled so that the plane's belly was between him and the blinding light. The light went past him. He was alive. The missile was locked in. Smiley fired.

There was one minor complication to the firing process. The call had been much closer. Fate had improved from the previous encounter, having run over the battle hundreds of times in her mind to prepare to face that same Acturan fighter pilot. Much like an arc welder, the attack had not only sheared away the lower part of a his left wing, but had practically welded shut the weapons bay. As such, the missile's failsafes prevented it from firing within the bay. Ordinarily, Smiley might have just fired a missile from the other working bay and played it safe. However, Smiley had already decided that time was of the essence for this snapshot.

He over-rid the failsafe. The missile fired, punched into the cockpit while taking off Smiley's left leg, and continued out. With its seeker head damaged, it spun off wildly to no effect. The fires of the rocket motor, while not activating the warhead of the missile behind it, ignited the missile's fuel. This explosion took out the wing fuel tanks, causing them to explode. The train wreck of causality continued. This explosion ignited the fuselage fuel tanks placed just behind the cockpit. Thankfully, the cockpit rear was armored enough that the explosion did not immediately kill Smiley. However, it did separate the cockpit from the rest of the fuselage. Death was imminent. Smiley punched out, in spite of the pain. Explosive bolts separated the canopy and rockets pushed the seat out from spinning and tumbling wreck.

"Well shit," thought Smiley before blacking out due to the blood loss.

xxxxxxxxx

Fate breathed heavily. The shrapnel had savaged her side and back. It was nothing quite lethal. It was the same man as before. She knew that much. She recognized the near manic piloting style. If he had the natural ability to be a mage, that pilot could have easily been her equal. However, limited by the Acturan hardware, even new pieces like that plane, it simply was a deficit that any pilot no matter how good could overcome.

He had gotten better too. If he'd had more ammunition or more missiles, he might have won. The trick he'd pulled near the end was also good. Fate merely watched, physically and mentally exhausted as the plane destroyed itself. She saw the canopy of the separated cockpit blow off and the ejection seat blast off. The parachute never deployed. Again curious and against her orders, she moved to investigate. Sonic Moves brought her to the plummeting enemy. It was a bloody mess. A large object had ripped off much of his leg. What was left was held in place by thin strands of muscle. It flapped limply in the wind. He still breathed, even if it was quite shallow. Fate smiled at the repetition of their last fight.

"I'm securing an enemy to bring back to base, General. The enemy is in a critical condition, so please have medics on standby."

She cut the pilot free.

"You fought the good fight, whoever you are."

xxxxxxxxx

"Battalion, move out!" growled "Major" Max.

Diesel engines roared to full power. Due to the road system, they were able to march, at least temporarily at 70 kilometers-per-hour. It was a very bumpy ride for the tanks. They had a top-secret unit of heavy-infantry attached to their heavy regiment. Even he didn't quite know what was going on, but Colonel Max knew the counterattack was starting. They could afford to move like this due to the lessened threat of orbital support fire.

"Gentlemen," said the Lt. Col, "I think you know just how much of a hothead maverick I am. You would requested transfer from my battalion otherwise. I like to think we're just as war crazy as I am. So gentlemen, we're rolling hot. Show them no mercy. Grind them to shreds under your treads. Blow them apart with shellfire. Ram them if you have to. Don't go on the defensive. Once that happens, we lose the initiative. That's how you lose an tank battle. They'd damn well better be reacting to us. Let's kill them."

They were silent, digesting the words. Deep down, they knew he was right. The old dog still had fangs.

xxxxxxxxx

"What the hell do they mean by this?" screamed Rakas as orders to seal their suits up filtered down to the platoon level.

"It means we're probably getting nuclear artillery support or something in that vein like gas, biologicals, or neutron bombs," said Elric.

"Fucking gas," commented Hennessey, "Hate that shit so much."

"It's why these utilities have some nuclear and radiological protection and plenty of chemical and biological protection," said Elric.

"I hope they don't use neutron bombs. I bet they could easily modify their shields after the first strike to filter out neutrons. Magic is just hax like that," said Art.

Hennessey looked from behind the shattered ruins of a wall. Both sides were pinned down across the scarred field. The tank platoon had managed to hold off the enemies with the loss of but one of their own. Rakas had called in an air strike which shook the ground as the bombs fell.

"Look at that!" cried someone. Everyone snapped their heads back and saw what was almost like a dust storm. A closer look determined that it was an entire battalion of racing tanks. The column spread out into a well drilled offensive formation as it split to circle around the town. Urban terrain was never good for tanks.

Long plumes of fire flared from the barrels of the tanks, spitting death. Scorching beams flashed in return as more tanks were called up to reinforce the stalling offense. Massive armored figures marched into the shattered buildings. The armor was bulky and slablike, made from the same ceramic as their body armor, but much thicker. The helmets did not look like they were made for humans, giving a disturbingly alien look. The weapons they carried were much too large to be any form of small arms. The only recognizable weapon was a 30mm automatic grenade launcher. Everything else was new. The rifles looked like they were chambered for 20mm autocannon rounds. The missile launcher looked as if it had a bore the size of a normal helmet.

One walked over to Rakas. It said in a deep rumbling voice, almost like that of a whale, "Captain Gamma-0001XAB. My orders are to take command of all infantry forces in this town."

"That would be us, sir," returned Rakas, "Our regiment is spread quite thinly."

"No problem Lieutenant..."

"Rakas, sir."

"Follow behind us, Lieutenant Rakas."

The reinforced company crept to the edge of the town as the tank battle raged around them.

"At my command, we charge. Follow us, Lieutenant Rakas."

The massive armored figure rose up. His rifle was held in one hand as he motioned for everyone to move out. He screamed a battle cry which even the Acturan army regulars found themselves shouting as they pounded over the grass to meet the enemy.

"Courage and honor!"

This rallying cry went unheard amongst the sounds of mechanized modern warfare.

xxxxxxxxx

"Target, 3 o' clock, MBT, shield up," called the "Major."

"Acquired, HEAT, firing," called the gunner, "Hit, shield down. Loading KE, firing."

"High, shield still down."

"Firing."

"Hit. She's burning."

The old man turned to the map.

"A2 Platoon, support B1. B1, hold position until A2 comes in."

"Sir, friendly crunchies making their way around for a flanking attack."

"Protect them as much as you can, but you'll protect them better the more armor you kill."

"Yes sir."

His optics were temporarily blinded as his tank was hit. They stopped for a moment as armor sloughed off in a molten stream. The tank still functioned.

"Alive down there?" he called to the driver.

"Yes sir. It's a bit toasty, though."

"Drive over behind that hill."

The behemoth began to roll. Another beam lanced out to strike the side hull armor. It was able to quickly burn through the magically enhanced composite armor. An rather unfortunate flaw of the T-70 design throughout the entire series of tanks was the placement of hydrogen storage tanks in the side hull since there really was not any other space for the propellant.

"We've got to get out!" screamed Max, popping open the hatch to his cupola. His old arms struggled to push himself out from his tank. The tank rocked and he fell back in. The beam bored through to the hydrogen storage tanks, and the turret was blown sky high.

xxxxxxxxx

It was a fast double time march over about three kilometers. Under normal circumstances they could have covered it in about fifteen minutes, but it took about half an hour due to the battle raging around them. The regular mechanized infantry had begun to deploy to assist their light infantry brethren. IFVs added their fire support. Eventually, the reinforced company gathered in a large crater made by a large bomb or heavy mortar round.

"You should just hang back and provide covering fire for us. You've been fighting long and hard. We'll give you a break," suggested the Captain.

"So sit back and watch the fireworks?" asked Rakas.

There seemed to be a grin behind the helmet. Acturan soldiers, accustomed to fighting with face concealing headgear, had an aptitude for picking up facial expressions without actually seeing them.

"Effectively."

"I've got a question, though. What rifles are you using?"

"SPR-08 heavy rifles. They fire 20mm caseless ammunition from a 30-round box magazine at 600 rounds-per-minute. They have an effective range of about 1000 meters, but are best when confined to 500 or so."

"Nice. Go get 'em."

"Move out!"

They sprung up like giants bestriding the earth. Rakas's platoon moved up, delivering bursts of automatic fire toward the TSAB infantry. Bolts of fire crossed back. They seemed to disperse before they even impacted against the armor. 20mm fire crossed back, taking only a few hits to kill a mage, compared the much larger amount required with small arms fire for the same effect. As they drew closer, the devices underslung beneath the barrels of the hand cannons began glow before unleashing elemental attacks of fire, lightning, and similar nastiness. The Acturans had finally managed to reverse engineer a primitive Device and mass-produce it, at least in a limited run. However, what these new Acturan mages lacked in the efficiency of their Devices, they made up for in raw power and the Acturan style of magic which did not require any form of Device.

"All units, hold positions. Lowrad tacnukes incoming," crackled over the radio to every Acturan unit on the battlefront.

The artillery rounds fell, and the battlefront lit up like a thousand suns.

xxxxxxxxx

Nanoha alternated between low level flight and simple walking as she hurried to the Acturan mountain base. Her plan was to, using the plans they'd extracted from the Assault Trooper's mind, blast a hole through the mountain via Starlight Breaker Excellion Mode and then follow the hole to Marshall Parker's command post. The mountain was coming up. Using records of the patrol patterns, Nanoha had so far managed to avoid detection. She flew to an adjacent peak.

The magic began to gather around her as she cast the spell. Raising Heart emptied and entire magazine of cartridges for this. The surrounding magic coalesced in a bubble contained only by the user to be released. Assets were rallied to attack her, but by now, it was far too late.

"Starlight Breaker."

The all-consuming beam of pink hellfire blasted a molten hole through the mountain. Nanoha couldn't help but wince. Hundreds were easily dead from the side effects of her attack. It was possibly the worst part of this fight. Unlike her other fights, there was much blood on her hands. She flew into the breach. It was like a charnel house. The ones hit with beam itself were the luckiest. They were gone. Others were less lucky, blown apart or severed at the waist or skin fat melted off or numerous other grisly and painful deaths.

As she expected, the hole was very close to Parker's command post. A few shocked guards reached for their weapons, but Nanoha was faster hitting them with nonlethal spells. Inside of the cave of electronics and monitors, she found an old man in a military uniform. Previously, he might have looked strong and powerful, but something had broken him, at least at this point.

xxxxxxxxx

The offense was succeeding as they pushed back against the TSAB. The nukes had shaken them and committed reserves had further opened the breach. Mechanized heavy regiments surged forward as an armored spearhead into the TSAB lines. Light regiments moved in behind.

"So Signum," began Vita, "Apparently, there are Acturan mages out there. I hope they can measure up to those special forces guys we fought back in the city."

"I suppose. I'm not sure these are the same sort of people we fought in the city."

They raced onward, challenging each other to get their faster like the old pair of veteran knights they were. It was obvious where the pair were meant to go; the flashing lightning bolts and exploding fireballs led the way. The two Armed Devices loaded cartridges. The Acturan mages never stood a chance as the seasoned Belkan veterans of a thousand battles tore into them.

xxxxxxxxx

"So, the White Devil has come for me," said the tired old man in near flawless Mid-Childan. He pulled back the hammer of a pistol with a kinetic click and point the blocky gun at her. It was no real defense and they both knew it.

"Field Marshall Parker, the TSAB requests your immediate and unconditional surrender."

"Let an old man ramble for a little while, my foe. Besides, look at that TV there."

Nanoha looked. She recognized the Acturan president. He was lying on the ground somewhere in a pool of blood. Another man had ascended to a podium. He was delivering a speech in Acturan. Several armed men in the uniform of Space Marines guarded him.

"That's Admiral Lokan. He just shot the president and is calling for an end to hostilities. I'm assuming you're somewhat familiar with your homeworld's literature. I am too. This reminds me of a one of those 'technothrillers' by Mr. Clancy that I read."

Nanoha gave him a curious look.

"Don't look at me like that. It was Red Storm Rising. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the work. The Soviets had my sympathies. However, at the end, the honorable general goes and takes control of the Politurbo in a military coup to end hostilities. I would have shot the man for such actions. Well, practically the same thing just happened now. What a turnabout, wouldn't you say. I'd like to shoot Lokan through this TV. I cannot accept an unconditional and immediate surrender. I will call off my forces if you call of yours."

"You should surrender first. Then we'll cease fire."

"I'm sorry, but my boys and girls would be shot up were that to happen. I care about my troops too much for that. Call off your troops first, I'll call off mine. Then we can sit about until the situation resolves itself."

"No, then we'll have the exact same problem, Marshall Parker."

"Fine. This is like grade school. Let's cease fire simultaneously."

"That is acceptable. I'll deliver the message to my commander, and you can deliver yours to your forces if we can reach an agreement."

There was an abrupt pause as Nanoha relayed the message.

"General Shikinami agrees to your suggestion. He's given me the honor of delivering the cease-fire.

The old man reached to a microphone and fiddled with it for a moment.

"This is Marshall Oscar Parker of the Democratic Republic of Acturus. Due to extenuating political circumstances, I order a general cease fire amongst all military personnel."

"This is Nanoha Takamachi of the Time-Space Administration Bureau. Due to extenuating political circumstances, an agreement has been reached for a general cease fire amongst all military personnel."


	19. Epilogue

This is the end of this story. Given the fandom, I couldn't help but end it on a certain note. This fic was a lot of firsts for me. First novel length, first major project, and now first completed fanfic (not counting oneshots). Thanks to all the readers to stuck it out to the end of this story. This entire story was probably some of the most fun I've had writing. Again, thanks. It was a fun ride to get this far.

* * *

Epilogue

1 Year After TSAB-Acturus War

"So, _Mrs. Hennessey_, what do you think of this?" said John, pointing to the memorial the TSAB had built over the wreckage of the _Sacred War's_ bombardment.

"Large. But hey, we lost around 40 million military and 20 million civilians. They lost around 10 million military and 5 million civilians. It was thoughtful to include the Acturan dead too," commented Rakas.

"It still kinda pisses me off, y'know, the cold shoulder we get. We only lost sovereignty, three times as many soldiers and eight times as many civilians. They had it pretty easy during the war," commented Hennessey.

"They're not bad people. Healthcare is definitely better now. Besides, they haven't been too bad."

"Fuck Lokan. Slimy political bastard."

The two walked. They wore heavy jackets for the winter snowfall. They were browsing through the TSAB section of the war memorial. The three meter tall stone obelisks were covered with names.

"Kinda sucks, though," said John.

"What?"

"Some of the shit we were lied to about the TSAB."

"Yeah. Fuck the politicians on both sides."

The two walked into the complex, a squat series of low buildings. There were a few displays which explained the war, why it had happened and such things. They'd managed to buy a T-70A3, Lancer, and some other surplus Acturan equipment along with similar examples of TSAB equipment.

It was a mere brush, a coincidence, but John noticed a woman slightly younger than his own wife with short brown hair. She was with some of her friends. It took a few seconds for the face to register with him.

"Hey Jane, is that who I think it is?"

"Who?"

"Back from the war, temporary TSAB commander, WMD on legs, Hayate Yagami."

"Probably. What's it to you?"

"How often do you get to meet the enemy commander even afterwards. We're turning back."

"Why the hell not?" returned the former Lt. Rakas.

The two doubled back. There were a few odd looks directed their way. It was probably the Acturan language, both because they'd been at war and because it just had a rather harsh sound to it.

"Hey Jane, could you please cut in."

"Why?"

"You're a girl and they, for the most part, are also girls. It could be rather awkward for me to do that."

"Fine. You owe me, though."

The two hastened their stride. Jane quickly cut in to their group.

"Jane Hennessey, pleased to meet you."

"Hayate Yagami, pleased to meet you to."

The two shook hands cordially.

"My husband wanted to come in to talk. C'mere John."

Hennessey walked over quickly.

"Sorry to bother you, but it's not every day that you meet the enemy commander. I suppose we're on the same side now. John Hennessey, former Sergeant in the Acturan Army. This is my wife..."

"I was a Lieutenant during the war, infantry."

Hayate laughed a little, "Fate. Does your friend know them?"

A skinny man in short jacket and jeans took a look at them, "Former Lieutenant Kyle Alexander, Acturan Air Force. Ring any bells?"

"I'm afraid not," returned Jane.

"Anyway, though you should probably be familiar with them. This is Fate, Nanoha, Signum, and Vita."

Greetings were cordially exchanged.

"Miss Hayate, Miss Nanoha, a pleasure to see you," came an old, gravelly voice. It was an old, grizzled man. He wore a brown trenchcoat over black jeans with dress shoes. The face was unmistakable for the people at hand.

"Mr. Parker, what brings you here today?" asked Nanoha.

"To pay my respects to the dead. I overheard a little of your conversation. It's almost as if we're having a TSAB-Acturus War reunion," answered the former Field Marshall.

"That's pretty much what this is turning into," said Hayate wryly.

"What say we go out and swap stories over some beer like old veterans?" offered the old man.

"Sounds good to me," said John Hennessey. There was a general chorus of assent to the suggestion, and the large group moved to leave. The war was common tie that brought them all together, no matter which side they had fought on. They might as well have been old time friends.

~Fin~


End file.
